LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



k* I 



ChapT.e.?.-.. Copyright No. 

mt 

UiSlTED STATES OF AMERICA. 



WITH PIPE AND BOOK 



CARPE DIEM 

In college verse y in equal share y 

Love^ fun and wine are everywhere ; 

Here walks with shaking sides the downy 
And here, in solemn cap and gowny 

Cupid usurps the teacher"* s chair ; 

And every maid is debonair y 

And motley is the only weary 

Gambrinus* wreath the only crown. 
In college verse. 

Ahy bright the jiowers that blossom there ; 
Ahy light the hours and free from care ; 
Banished the sigh, forgot the frown y 
The restless ghosts that will not down ; 
And youth is gay, and life is fairy 
In college verse. 

James Weber Linn 



With Pipe and Book 



A Collection of 
. . . College Verse 



Chosen by- 
Joseph Le Roy Harrison 

Editor of ** Cap and Goivn " 



"The philosophy of life's afternoon is a poor exchange 
for the poetry of its morning " 

C. T. WINCHESTER 



Preston and Rounds Company 

Providence • • • Mdcccxcvii 









j^TSjW^ 



Copyright, 1897, 
By Preston and Rounds Company. 



To 
Col. Timothy Shaler Williams 



COLLEGE PAPERS REPRESENTED 



Amherst College . 

Boston College . . . . 
Brown University . 

Columbia University . 
Cornell University . 

Dartmouth College 
Hamilton College , 
Harvard University 
Lehigh University . 
Leland Stanford Jr. Univ. . 
Mount Holyoke College . 
Notre Dame University . 
Princeton University . 

Smith College . . . . 
Trinity College . . . . 
University of Chicago . . 
University of Michigan 
University of Minnesota . 
University of Pennsylvania. 



Amherst Literary Monthly. 

Amherst Student. 

Stylus. 

Brown Magazine. 

Brunonian. 

Columbia Literary Monthly. 

Cornell Era. 

Cornell Magazine. 

Dartmouth Literary Monthly. 

Hamilton Literary Monthly. 

Harvard Advocate. 

Lehigh Burr. 

Sequoia. 

Mount Holyoke. 

Notre Dame Scholastic. 

Nassau Literary Monthly. 

Princeton Tiger. 

Smith College Monthly. 

Trinity Tablet. 

University of Chicago Weekly. 

Inlander. 

Minnesota Magazine. 

Red and Blue. 



College Papers Represented 



University of Rochester 
University of Tennessee . 
University of Vermont 
University of Virginia . 
University of Wisconsin . 
Vassar College .... 
Washington and Lee Univ. 
Wellesley College . . . 
Wesleyan University . 
Williams College . 

Yale University 



Campus. 

Tennessee Univ. Magazine. 

University Cynic. 

Univ. of Virginia Magazine. 

Wisconsin .^gis. 

Vassar Miscellany. 

Southern Collegian. 

Wellesley Magazine. 

Wesleyan Literary Monthly. 

Williams Athenaeum. 

Williams Literary Monthly. 

Yale Courant. 

Yale Literary Magazine. 

Yale Record. 



CONTENTS 



April Yale Literary Magazine, 52 

At Sweet Sixteen . . Tennessee Univ. Magazine, 52 
At the Sea . . . . Red and Blue, 1 1 5 



Ballade of a Kiss, The 
Ballad of Dorothy, A 
Banquet Song . 
Bashful Johnny 
Boccherini's Minuet 

Carpe Diem 
Cheer .... 
Chivalry 

Christmas Morning 
Cloudland . 
Colin' s CaU . . 
Comin' thro' the Rye 
Coquette, A 
Crocuses, The . 
"Crux Fidelis" . 

Die Weinstube . 
Di's Smile . . . 
Doris's Shoestrings . 
Dorothy 
Dream Song 
Drinking Song . 



Fairyland .... 
Fayre Ladye Lalage 
First Snowstorm, The 



Harvard Advocate, 113 
Williams Literary Monthly, 36 
Dartmouth Literary Monthly, 144 
Williams Literary Monthly, 33 
Williams Athenaeum, 40 

Univ. of Chicago Weekly, 2 

Brown Magazine, 120 

Yale Literary Magazine, 62 

Yale Courant, 117 

Columbia Literary Monthly, 136 

Red and Blue, 44 

Yale Record, 30 

Brunonian, 1 5 

Wellesley Magazine, 71 

Harvard Advocate, 135 

Yale Courant, 56 
Amherst Student, 139 
Vassar Miscellany, 146 
Yale Courant, 58 
Smith College Monthly, 94 
Brown Magazine, 24 

Wellesley Magazine, 59 
Harvard Advocate, 103 
Vassar Miscellany, 78 



Contents 



Free Nassau Literary Monthly, 19 

Free Lances . . . Harvard Advocate, 67 

Fool's Ballad . . . Yale Courant, 145 

Glee Club Concert, The. Univ. of Chicago Weekly, 66 

Heliotrope .... Harvard Advocate, io8 

Her Light Guitar . . Amherst Literary Monthly, 148 

Humble Romance, A . Vassar Miscellany, 53 

I Dream of Thee . . Univ. of Chicago Weekly, 109 

If I but knew . . . Stylus, 5 5 

Immer Mehr . . . Harvard Advocate, 88 

In Cap and Bells . . Harvard Advocate, 105 

Influence .... Southern Collegian, 20 

In Modern Times . . Amherst Literary Monthly, 107 

In the Dark . . . Williams Literary Monthly, 61 

In the Jim Valley . . Minnesota Magazine, 41 

In the Pines . . . Vassar Miscellany, 18 

Jacqueminot . . . Wesleyan Literary Monthly, 99 

Jock and Jenny . . Yale Courant, 76 

Late Wisconsin -^gis, 119 

Letting down the Bars . Red and Blue, loi 

Lines Cornell Era, 129 

Little Bird, A . . . Smith College Monthly, 22 

Little Blind Beggar, The . Smith College Monthly, 128 

"Little Dan Cupid " . Vassar Miscellany, 25 

Lost Love .... Lehigh Burr, 92 

Love's Origin . . . Brunonian, 70 

Lullaby Wellesley Magazine, 34 

Lullaby Wellesley Magazine, 86 

Mabel Red and Blue, 65 

Manoa Brown Magazine, 126 

May Song, A . . . Univ. of Chicago Weekly, 98 
Midsummer Night's 

Dream, A . . . Mount Holyoke, 131 

Misunderstanding, A . Wellesley Magazine, 69 

10 



Contents 

Month of Magic, The . Wesleyan Literary Monthly, 23 

My Hounds . . . Vassar Miscellany, 89 

My Lady in the Garden. Dartmouth Literary Monthly, 125 

My Lady Nicotine . . Columbia Literary Monthly, 84 

My Old Guitar . . Yale Record, 75 

My Pipe .... Lehigh Burr, 48 

My Quest .... Trinity Tablet, 114 

Night Wind's Song, The . Inlander, 85 

Nineteenth Century, The . Williams Literary Monthly, 64 

Now and Then . . Trinity Tablet, 106 

Oh, for the storm-scarred 

headlands . . Harvard Advocate, 51 

Old Love Song, The . Campus, 137 
On the Retired List . Princeton Tiger, 38 
Polly, my Sweetheart . Inlander, 72 
** Poor Cupid froze his 

wings one day " . Wellesley Magazine, 39 
Prom. Roses . , . Yale Record, 91 

Ring-doves and Roses . Yale Courant, 50 
Rondeau .... Smith College Monthly, 68 
Rondeau : With Pipe 

and Book . . . Yale Courant, 1 3 
Saint Nicholas — His 

Roundelay . . . Yale Courant, 28 
Serenade .... Williams Literary Monthly, 1 1 2 
Since Agnes died . . Brown Magazine, 27 
Skating Song, A . . Nassau Literary Monthly, 121 
Slumber Song . . . University Cynic, 1 3 1 

Song Red and Blue, 10 1 

Song Williams Literary Monthly, 73 

Song, A . . . . Nassau Literary Monthly, 134 
Song of Joy, A . . Univ. of Chicago Weekly, 14 
Song of Mistress Anne, A . Williams Literary Monthly, 17 
Song of Return . . Univ. of Chicago Weekly, 90 
Song of the Jolly Fat 

Friar, The . . . Harvard Advocate, 80 
II 



Contents 



Song of the Sea Flight . Amherst Literary Monthly, 97 

So runs the World . . Vassar Miscellany, 3 5 

Southern .... Cornell Era, 148 

Star of Bethlehem, The . Vassar Miscellany, 93 

Stolen Glance, A . . Brunonian, 139 

Suppose Wellesley Magazine, 80 

Sword Song . . . Hamilton Literary Monthly, 109 



Tardy-bug Men, The . 
Three Points of View . 
To a Friend in Love . 
To a Girl on a Greek 
Frieze .... 
To a Miniature 
To a Spray of Violets . 
To the Valley of Dreams. 

Triolet 

Twilight Song . . . 
Twilight Song . . . 



Minnesota Magazine, 141 
Notre Dame Scholastic, 123 
Wesleyan Argus, 47 

Wesleyan Argus, 46 
Vassar Miscellany, 21 
Red and Blue, 104 
Notre Dame Scholastic, 150 
Sequoia, 60 
Vassar Miscellany, 63 
Yale Courant, 118 



Upon her Mandolin . Harvard Advocate, 78 
Valentine, A . . . Williams Literary Monthly, 82 



Brunonian, 143 

Cornell Era, 83 

Cornell Magazine, 140 

Univ. of Virginia Magazine, 124 

Yale Literary Magazine, 133 

University Cynic, 1 1 1 

Yale Courant, 95 

Yale Courant, 87 

Yale Courant, 45 

Univ. of Virginia Magazine, 96 



When chime the Bells. 
When Love was born . 
When Morning breaks. 
When Stars come out . 
"When the last light, 

dim and still " . 
When the Tide is low . 
Where Cupid dwells . 
Where Love dwells 
With Jenny in the Rain, 
Woodland Whispers . 

Ye Golde-headed Cane. Wesleyan Literary Monthly, 3 1 
Yesterday .... Southern Collegian, 119 



12 



With Pipe and Book 



RONDEAU 



W^ 



'ITH pipe and book, an old arm-chair, 
A glowing hearth, what need I care 
For empty honors, wealth or fame ? 
Grant me but this ; an honest name, 
A cup of ale, a coat to wear. 
And then, while smoke-wreaths rift the air. 
The banquet of the gods I share. 
Content to sit before the flame 
With pipe and book. 

Above the city's noisy glare. 
Yet sweet, tho' humble, is my fare ; 
For changing not from praise to blame. 
These faithful friends are still the same — 
No earthly comforts can compare 
With pipe and book. 

CHARLES E. MERRILL, JR. 
13 



With Pipe and Book 
A SONG OF JOY 



Sing songs of gladness 

Merry and gay. 
Mad with the madness 

Of life's roundelay; 
Lays turned to lightness 

Sweet as the day. 
Full of the brightness 

Of love's holiday. 

II 

Sing songs of gladness 

Joyous and free. 
Scatter life's sadness 

Mid jolHty; 
Make music's measure 

Rolic and ring. 
Pent with the pleasure 

Of youth and the spring. 



Sing songs of gladness 
Merry with mirth, 
14 



A Collection of College Verse 

Laugh away sadness. 

Gladden the earth ; 
Burst out in singing. 

Sing all the day, — 
'Ere life may be bringing 
Death to thy play. 

CHARLES SUMNER PIKE. 



A COQUETTE 

Oh, I see where you're sitting. 

Out there with your knitting ; 

You thought you were hid by the trunk of the 

tree. 
But, Kitty, believe me. 
You cannot deceive me, 
I'd find you wherever you happened to be. 

Chorus : 

Then ^ tis come to me, Kitty y 
If s you that looks pretty y 
With your neat little feet and your trim little 
waist, 

15 



With Pipe and Book 

So don^ t be so simple. 

But bring me that dimple. 

And give your own Barney a bit of a taste. 



How your needles are flying. 

As with them you're tying 

And looping away at your bright worsted thread ; 

And it's little you're caring 

If in it you're snaring 

The heart of a lover you never would wed. 

Chorus ; 

Then if s come to me, Kitty, etc. 

Though your fingers are dancing, 

I see that your' re glancing 

Aside at me here through the tail of your eye. 

Then why should you wait, now. 

But come to the gate, now. 

And give me a kiss while I bid you good-bye. 

Chorus : 

Then it's come to me, Kitty, etc, 

HENRY MORGAN STONE. 

i6 



A Collection of College Verse 

A SONG OF MISTRESS ANNE 

In farthingale and satin gown. 

Sing hey, my lady ! 
Comes Mistress Anne from London-town 
To Dingledale on Crosswood Down 

When country lanes are shady ! 

Blue are her eyes as June-tide skies. 

Sing hey, my lady ! 
June's sunshine in her soft hair lies. 
Oh, who will win her beauty's prize 

When country lanes are shady ? 

She lays aside her satin gown. 

Sing hey, my lady ! 
And dons a frock o' russet brown. 
To pluck dog-roses on the Down 

When country lanes are shady! 

O rustic swains, who find her fair. 

Sing hey, my lady ! 
Trust not her simple artless air. 
Unless, perchance, she flout you there 

Where country lanes are shady ! 

ARTHUR KETCHUM. 
17 



With Pipe and Book 

IN THE PINES 

There were three of us — Cupid went with us, 

you know. 
Dear blindfolded boy, who is never de trop. 
And the words left unsaid the soft winds whis- 
pered low. 

In the pines. 

A small gift she gave me — though blind, it is 

true. 
From the way that he laughed I am sure Cupid 

knew. 
And the asters and goldenrod, they saw it too. 
And the pines. 

Then the shadows grew dark in the wood's 

tangled growth. 
And homeward we turned in the twilight, half 

loath. 
And Love walked between with an arm around 

both. 

Through the pines. 

JULIET WILBUR TOMPKINS. 

i8 



A Collection of College Verse 

FREE 

Loosed are the bonds that held my soul. 

And afar on the leaping bay 
I steer with the North Star for my goal. 
At the close of the autumn day. 

Then hey ! for the rush of the cutting 
prow 
And the thrill of a wild delight — 
Where the bell-buoy swings as the sea-gull 
clings 
I gloom thro' the wave-born night. 

I was clamped by a horror beyond all name, 

A plaything to bless or to ban. 
Till the spirit within me surged in flame 
And I knew I was yet a man. 

Then hey ! for the great brown wing I 

love. 

The swoop of the sail in the breeze. 

For the jarring sound of the past is drowned 

'Mid the clash of the tumbling seas. 

The will has won in a life's revolt — 
A weird voice bids me forth — 
19 



With Pipe and Book 

And keen as the stabbing thunderbolt 
I haste toward the mystic north. 

Then hey ! for the whirlwind, headlong, 
grim. 
And hey ! for the ice-king's glee. 
Thro' zephyr and gale alike I sail — 
Unfettered and fierce and free. 

DAVID POTTER. 



INFLUENCE 



I WONDER if ever a wave ebbs out but it breaks 
on a distant shore. 

Or fall any tears 

But the faces of years 
Are stained thro' the Evermore ? 



I wonder if ever a day is born or an evening to 
twilight steals. 

But they leave a mark 
Thro' the gathering dark 
In the print of their golden wheels ? 
20 



A Collection of College Verse 

I wonder if ever a word is said or ever a song 
is sung. 

But their souls live on 

When their sounds are gone — 

In the Palace of Silence hung ? 

I wonder if ever a life is lived but its being gives 
sweet to some. 

But its hands touch still. 
And its dream-voice will 
Speak after its lips are dumb ? 

And so may it be, thou forgotten one, when 
the cup of thy life is filled. 
That the world drink up 
From the shattered cup 
Whatever and all that is spilled. 

WILLIAM H. FIELD, 



TO A MINIATURE 

Sweet maid of old, with powdered hair. 
With face and form forever fair. 
Such joy was never seen before ; 

21 



With Pipe and Book 

Thou' St smiled for fifty years and more. 
Didst never weep nor feel a care ? 

Did lovers brave always adore. 
And noble vows breathe o'er and o'er ? 
Such homage now indeed is rare. 
Sweet maid of old. 

Art never weary sitting there 
In the old-fashioned, high-back chair ? 
Tell me, dear maiden, I implore. 
Did blessings ever on thee pour. 
And was the whole world, like thee, fair. 
Sweet maid of old ? 

MARIE REIMER. 



A LITTLE BIRD 

A LITTLE bird in a tree 
Made one — a man and maiden three. 
'Twas not by chance that they had met ! 
** None see," they said ; one can forget 
A litde bird. 



A Collection of College Verse 

A long hot road, a strip of grass, 
'Twould tempt the Fates to let it pass ! 
Two people linger in the walk ; 
There's only one to hear them talk, 

A little bird. 

Long shadows stretched across the sky. 
Two people parted with a sigh. 
But there was no one there to see ! 
How do I know ? and who told me ? 
A little bird. 

E. R. C. 



THE MONTH OF MAGIC 

When the bee, that idle skipper. 

Steers his shallop down the breeze ; 
Launching from the lady's slipper. 

Anchoring in the Hlac trees, — 
When the marsh-bird's ditty amorous 

(Where the indian- turnip grows) 
Mingles with the paean clamorous 

From the black heart of the crows, - 
When the breath of roses lingers 

Like an incense in the sky, — 
23 



With Pipe and Book 

When the odor of syringas 

Tempts the vagrant butterfly, — 
When the moth, a knavish fellow. 

Steals the coins of gold that shine 
In the cowslip's purse of yellow. 

Sacks and robs the lily's shrine, — 
When the ether throbs with question — 

Intimation — whispered prayer — 
Orioles, full of sly suggestion. 

Drop a hint down through the air, — 
Tbe;i by some strange necromancy 

Sad old Earth is set to tune ; 
Would you know the cause ? / fancy 

Heaven is keeping tryst with June. 

FREDERIC LAWRENCE KNOWLES. 



DRINKING SONG 

Ring from the rim of the glass, boys, 

Ripples of tinkling tones. 
Drink to the heyday of youth, boys. 

Mindless of after moans. 
24 



A Collection of College Verse 

Over the rim of the glass, boys. 
Gaze into eyes that are bright. 

Drink with each sip of the wine, boys. 
Passionate gleams of delight. 

Sing to the rim of the glass, boys. 

Chorus wherever we roam. 
Drink to the sparkling-eyed depths, boys, 

A love as light as its foam. 

Kiss the rim of the glass, 'boys. 

Blind to its siren-gleam. 
Drink to its shading depths, boys. 

The wav'ring forms of a dream. 

Then ring from the rim of the glass, boys. 

Ripples of tinkling tones. 
Drink to the heyday of youth, boys. 

Mindless of after-moans. 

JOHN CLINTON ANTHONY. 



"LITTLE DAN CUPID" 

Little Dan Cupid stole down on a sunbeam. 
To get of this old earth a peep. 
25 



With Pipe and Book 

He was tired of play with toy hearts and blunt 
arrows. 
And his good mother Love was asleep. 

Little Dan Cupid rode home on the moon-ray. 
And bore to his mother as trophies of might 
Two human hearts, pierced and bleeding, en- 
folded 
In a bit of the gray mist that shrouded the 
night. 

<*Ah, naughty Dan Cupid!" Love cried; 
her tears falling 
Were like the sweet dropping of soft April 
rain ; 
" Knewest thou not that in all the wide heaven 
No healing is found for Love's wounds or 
Love's pain ? " 

The pitying All-Mother took to her bosom 
The poor beating things by Dan Cupid un- 
done. 
** At least, ye may bear it together," she mur- 
mured. 
And tenderly kissed the two souls into one. 

AMY LOUISE REED. 
26 



A Collection of College Verse 

SINCE AGNES DIED 

They say that the brook makes music soft 

As ever in its pebbly bed. 
That the leaves still whisper sv^eet aloft 

In springtime when the robins wed. 
Well, yes, they may — I cannot say — 
Since Agnes died. 



They say the sunshine still is fair. 

That the summer air is still as sweet. 

When soft the breeze sighs everywhere 
In autumn, ere the long days fleet. 

Perhaps 'tis so — I do not know — 
Since Agnes died. 



They say that gladness is not dead. 
That the future smiles, and life is gay. 

That joy and hope have not all fled. 
That comfort has not passed away. 

It may be — well — I cannot tell — 
Since Agnes died. 

ALBERT ELLSWORTH THOMAS. 
27 



With Pipe and Book 

SAINT NICHOLAS — HIS ROUNDELAY 

On Christmas eve 
You would scarce believe 
How early the sand-man came a-creeping ; 
By the way each head 
Went into the bed 
When prayers were said 
You'd have thought them sleeping. 
(You would really have thought the children 
sleeping.) 

Sing Fol- de-rol- do I- diddle- lol- day. 
Saint Nicholas — his roundelay. 

Old Saint Nick 

With his usual trick 
Came upon the roof with a terrible clatter ; 

And Dolly and Sue, 

And Polly and Prue, 

And Jonathan too. 
Knew what was the matter. 
(But of course they didn't wake up at the 
clatter.) 

Sing Fol- de- rol- do I- diddle- lol- day. 
Saint Nicholas — his roundelay. 
28 



A Collection of College Verse 

Little Miss Polly 

Dreamed of a dolly. 
Hung by the wrist to a Christmas tree. 

And a candy boar. 

With an echoing roar. 

From the e-qua-tor 
To the frozen sea. 

(An astonishing boar, 'twixt you and me.) 
Sing Fol- de- rol- do I- diddle- lol- day. 
Saint Nicholas — his roundelay. 

Jonathan's fox 

And his Jack-in-the-box, 
Would beat Sam Joneses all to nuthin*. 

Last Christmas he 

Had no monkey 

Made beautifully. 
With sawdust stuffin. 

( Oh, Sam Jones, he didn' t 'mount to nuthin' . ) 
Sing Fol- de- rol- do I- diddle- lol- day. 
Saint Nicholas — his roundelay. 

Ah, Christmas Day ! 
The old folks say. 
They sleep through the night and it doesn't 
matter ; 

29 



With Pipe and Book 

For Dolly and Sue, 
And Polly and Prue, 
And Jonathan too. 
Make up for the clatter 

Of Nick in the night, that's the truth of the 
matter. 

Sing Fol- de- rol- do I- diddle- lol- dayy 
Saint Nicholas — his roundelay. 

ROBERT L. MUNGER. 



COMIN' THRO' THE RYE 

A DAINTY little maiden 

Came a-tripping through the rye. 
An airy bit of womanhood. 
With laughter in her eye. 
A jaunty little lassy. 

With a little coy way. 
As merrily she tripped along 
To that natty Scottish lay: 
** Gin a-body meet a-body 
Conmi* thro* the rye. 
Gin a-body kiss a-body 
Need a-body cry ?'^ 
30 



A Collection of College Verse 

A brawny, Scottish laddie 

Was a-working in the rye ; 
A brawny, fearless fellow. 

But a trifle bit too shy. 
A bashful, blushing laddie. 

At that coy maiden's dare. 
As merrily she tripped along 

To that natty Scottish air. 

H. H. TOWNSEND. 



YE GOLDE-HEADED CANE 

It stands in the corner yet, stately and tall. 

With a top that once shone like the sun ; 
It whispers of musterfield, playhouse and ball. 

Of gallantries, courtship and fun. 
It is hardly the stick for the dude of to-day. 

He would swear it was ** deucedly plain," 
But the halos of memory crown its decay — 

My grandfather's gold-headed cane. 

It could tell how a face in a circling calash 
Grew red as the poppies she wore, 
31 



With Pipe and Book 

When a dandy stepped up with a swagger and 
dash 
And escorted her home to her door. 
How the beaux cried with jealousy, **Jove ! 
what a buck ! " 
As they glared at the fortunate swain. 
And the wand which appeared to have fetched 
him his luck — 
My grandfather's gold-headed cane. 

It could tell of the rides in the grand yellow 

gig 
When, from under a broad scuttle hat. 

The eyes of fair Polly were lustrous and big. 
And — but no ! would it dare tell of that ? 

Ah me ! by those wiles that bespoke the coquette 
How many a suitor was slain ! 

There was one though who conquered the foe 
when they met 
With the gleam of his gold-headed cane. 

Oh the odors of lavender, lilac and musk! 

They scent these old halls even yet ; 
I can still see the dancers as down through the 
dusk 
They glide in the grave minuet. 
32 



A Collection of College Verse 

The small satin slippers, my grandmamma's 
pride. 
Long, long in the chest have they Iain ; 
Let us shake out the camphor and place them 
beside 
My grandfather's gold-headed cane. 

FREDERIC LAWRENCE KNOWLES. 



BASHFUL JOHNNY 

Young bashful Johnny loved sweet May, 
And went to court her every day. 
But yet his tongue could never swear 

He loved her true. 
It seems to me had I been there 

I'd vowed my love — now wouldn't you ? 

Sweet May would sit by Johnny's side. 
And all her thoughts to him confide. 
Yet take her hand he'd never dare — 

So near his, too — 
It seems to me had I been there 

I'd clasped it tight — now wouldn't you ? 
33 



With Pipe and Book 

And May's red lips seemed to invite 

Sweet kisses ; but so bold a flight 

He thought — yet wondered if she'd care — 

Would never do. 
It seems to me had I been there 

I would have kissed her — wouldn't you ? 

GEORGE W. GILLETTE. 



LULLABY 



Breezes in the tree-tops high. 
Sighing sofdy as you blow. 
Sing a restful lullaby ; 

Sing the sweetest song you know. 
Something slow, something lowj - 
Lulla-lullaby. 

Barley heads and crested wheat. 

Swaying gendy to and fro. 
Sing the music of the heat. 

Sing the drowsiest song you know. 
Something slow, something low, 
Lulla-lullaby. 
34 



A Collection of College Verse 

Brooklet hidden in the grass. 

Murmuring faintly as you flow. 
Sing a sleep song while you pass ; 
Sing the dreamiest song you know. 
Something slow, something low, — 
Lulla-lullaby. 

EMILY S. JOHNSON. 



SO RUNS THE WORLD 

Many a day, many a day, 

A stalwart knight on a charger gray 

Galloped along the king's highway. 
Never he stopped at the garden gate. 
Never he looked through the iron grate. 
But ever he whispered, **'Tis late, 'tis late, 
I seek for my princess, I cannot wait." 
(So runs the world, my dear.) 

Many a day, many a day. 
In the garden close by the king's highway 
A lady sat spinning her bridal array. 
Never she thought of the garden gate. 
Never she stopped to look through the grate, 
35 



With Pipe and Book 

But ever she whispered, ** 'Tis late, 'tis late. 
My prince is coming, I cannot wait.'* 
(So runs the world, my dear.) 

The roses beckoned over the wall. 
The roadside birds never ceased to call. 
The winds in passing told it all, — 

" She is here, she is here ; " 
But the prince rode into the world away. 
And the princess spun her bridal array. 
Till youth was ended and life was gray. 
(So runs the world, my dear.) 

FANNY L. MCKINNEY 



A BALLAD OF DOROTHY 

It's ** Dorothy ! where' s Dorothy? 

From morn to even fall. 
There's not a lad on Cowslip Farm 

Who joins not in the call. 
It's Dolly here and Dolly there. 

Where can the maiden be ? 
No wench in all our country-side's 

So fine as Dorothy. 

36 



A Collection of College Verse 

With tucked-up gown and shining pail 

Before the day is bright, 
Down dewy lanes she singing goes 

Among the hawthorns white. 
Perchance, her roses need her care 

She tends them faithfully. 
There's not a rose in all the world 

As fresh and sweet as she ! 



With morning sunshine in her hair 

A-churning Dolly stands. 
Oh, happy churn ! I envy it. 

Held close between her hands ; 
And when the crescent moon hangs bright 

Athwart the soft night sky, 
Down shadowed paths we strolling go. 

Just Dorothy and I. 

As true of heart, as sweet of face. 

With gay and girlish air. 
The painted belles of citydom 

Are not a whit as fair. 
Come Michaelmas the parish chimes 

Will ring out merrily. 
37 



With Pipe and Book 

Who is the bride I lead to church ? 
Why, who but Dorothy ? 

ARTHUR KETCHUM. 



ON THE RETIRED LIST 

Vet' RAN dress-coat ! You've gone astray. 
Yes, you, old soldier, worn and gray. 

But ah ! High pride must have its falls ; 

You will get tight ; the habit galls. 
So you're retired — laid away. 
Yet you've faced powder, blithe and gay. 
The *' awful charge," the trumpet's bray ; 

You've known the hum of whirling balls. 
Vet' ran dress-coat. 

Our fight is done. In deadly fray 
We seized her heart. Though heroes lay 
Within the breach, we stormed the walls. 
And hung our banners in those halls ; 
By conquering **arms" we won the day. 
Vet' ran dress-coat ! 
38 



A Collection of College Verse 

POOR CUPID FROZE HIS WINGS 
ONE DAY" 

Poor Cupid froze his wings one day. 
When winds were cold and skies were gray. 

And clouds with snow were laden. 
A little maid was passing by ; 
She caught the rogue, — he could not fly, — 

Oh naughty litde maiden ! 

She sent him ofF with sharpen' d dart. 
To steal for her a certain heart ; 

But, oh the mishap stupid ! 
Since Cupid's blind, and cannot see. 
He went astray, and came to me. 

Oh naughty little Cupid ! 

So that is why my heart is gone. 
And I am dreary and forlorn. 

With tears my eyes are laden. 
She does not want my heart — ah no 1 
I did not wish to have it go ; 

Oh Cupid, and oh maiden ! 

GERTRUDE JONES. 

39 



With Pipe and Book 

BOCCHERINPS MINUET 

Out upon the night air steals the music, soft and 

low. 
Trembling like a wind-swayed leaflet swinging 
to and fro ; 
Ah, the whispered moaning. 
Ah, the soft intoning. 
Ah, the dancers, buried long ago ! 

Louder grows the music now, and now a flick- 
ering glow 
Shines upon the ghosdy dancers, moving there 
below ; 
Ah, the courtly graces. 
Ah, the eager faces. 
Of the dancers, buried long ago ! 

How the jewels glisten. 
Diamonds, lustre-robbing \ 

How the spectres listen 
To the music, sobbing ! 

O'er the waxen floor the bowing shadows 
slowly go ; 

40 



A Collection of College Verse 

Then they vanish quickly, as the north wind 
drives the snow ; 

Was it only seeming ? 

Was I only dreaming 
Of the dancers, buried long ago ? 

G. A. COPELAND. 



IN THE JIM VALLEY 

They're harvestin' the wheat-fields in the valley 

of the Jim ; 
I can hear the reapers clatter, soundin' kind of 

low and dim. 
See the yello' fields a-wavin', an' the shocks in 

crooked rows. 
An' the house an' barn, an' mother out hangin' 

up the clo'se ; 
See the cattle and the pastur', an' the ol' gray 

limpin' mule. 
An' the yello' heifer standin' in the water 

keepin' cool ; 
An' I try to fight agin' it as a sort of silly whim. 
But I wisht 'at I was back there in the valley 

of the Jim. 

41 



With Pipe and Book 

Now it's fall ; an' they're a thrashin' an' a 

ploughin' up the ground ; 
An' the air is sort of hazy, an' the gulls are 

sailin' 'round ; 
An' the sun looks kind of yello' in the smoky 

afternoon ; 
An' at evenin' you can listen to the thunder's 

sleepy tune. 
See the horses comin' home from work, an' 

smell their sweaty coats. 
Hear 'em smashin' through the stubble, tired 

an' hungry for their oats. 
Now it's growing sort of dusky, an' they're 

doin' up the chores. 
An' the kitchen fire is burnin', an' it's chilly 

out-o' -doors : — 
I can smell the eggs an' coffee, an' I know my 

little trim, 
Lovin' mother's gettin' supper in the valley by 

the Jim. 

Onc't I had a older brother in the valley of the 

Jim; 
An* he was a homely feller, an' I ust to go 

with him 

42 



A Collection of College Verse 

To the pastur' for the cattle, an* a-fishin', an' 
around ; 

An' I mind he ust to carry me acrost the stubble 
ground. 

An' we'd often sit a-fishin', on a summer after- 
noon. 

By the creek, an' hear the gophers chirp, an' 
listen to the tune 

Of the bob-o-link an' black-bird — oh I recol- 
lect it well ; 

An' we liked the sleepy water, an' the kind of 
fishy smell 

Of the old dry bank, with craw-fish bones an' 
clam-shells layin' there ; 

An' we'd hear the dreary singin' of the plover 
in the air. 

An' then one day in fall they buried him on 
father's hill ; 

'N I cried all day, an' wished 'at I was laid 
along of Bill ; 

Fer it seemed so queer an' lonesome 'thout no 
brother any more ; — 

An' now the grass is dyin' there, an' winds 
are sighin' o'er ; — 



43 



With Pipe and Book 

I can hear the sor'f'ul meado' lark a-singin' over 

him. — 
O, I wisht 'at I was back there in the valley of 

the Jim. 

WILL DILLMAN. 



COLIN'S CALL 

Oh ! who will be my true love 
And put her hand in mine ? 

Oh ! who will to the alleyed grove 
And garlands gay entwine ? 

For her who'll be my true love 
The fairest flowers I'll find ; 

The loveliest posies in the grove 
For her shall all be twined. 

Oh ! who'll be my true love 
And wander forth with me 

To where the clouds float soft above. 
The primrose dots the lea ? 

For her who'll be my true love 
The skies will aye be blue, 
44 



A Collection of College Verse 

The meadows always green prove. 
My heart be ever true. 

F. T. W. 



WITH JENNY IN THE RAIN 

As sad I was as any. 

With all a lover's pain. 
Till I walked that day with Jenny — 

With Jenny in the rain! 
Past fresh'ning fields of clover 

And sweet with ripening grain. 
And blossoms blowing over. 

With Jenny in the rain! 

The silken shade above her — 

The violets at her feet ; 
The raindrops seemed to love her. 

And fell in music sweet. 
And O, the south wind blowing 

In many a glad refrain. 
When love and I were going 

With Jenny in the rain. 

Each breeze that rippled past her 
Stole kisses on the way ; 
45 



With Pipe and Book 

The rain fell never faster 

Than beat my heart that day ! 

And O, the fields of clover. 
And O, the golden grain ! 

For love came home — the rover ! 
With Jenny, in the rain ! 

FRANK L. STAMON. 



TO A GIRL ON A GREEK FRIEZE 

How often have I gazed into thy face. 

And wished those lips could pulse again v^ith 

red. 
Those eyes could answer mine, thy feet could 

tread 
The choral dance anew with old-time grace. 
Thy rounded arms, which now entwine that 

vase. 
And poise it high above that perfect head. 
Could clasp me in their new-found warmth in- 
stead. 
Thy heart could join with mine in sweet em- 
brace. 
Ah, then we'd leave the noisy, smoky town, 

46 



A Collection of College Verse 

And through the fragrant meadows haste away 

And whispering woods, to some fair sleepy- 
glade. 

Where fairies weave the flowers in many a 
crown. 

Where all is rest and mirth, where wood-nymphs 
play. 

And Pan still pipes beneath the friendly shade. 

ASHLEY HORACE THORNDIKE. 



TO A FRIEND IN LOVE 

In Arcady ! I envy you. 

Arcadian hillsides never knew 
A more bewitching shepherdess 
To take an humble swain's caress ; 

Ne'er thrilled a shepherd heart more true. 

Has not each flower a magic hue ? 
Has not the sky a richer blue ? 

Is not life sweet — come, now confess. 
In Arcady ? 
47 



With Pipe and Book 

One time I dwelt where now you do. 

Old friend ; — but loves that last are few — 

Now since I know your happiness, 

I'll try my luck again, I guess. 
For I should like to be there, too. 
In Arcady. 

LOUIS JONES MAGEE. 



MY PIPE 



Two years old, this httle fellow. 
Yet he's strong and sweet and mellow. 
Yesterday, to-day, to-morrow. 
Always sharing joy and sorrow. 
Sticking by me like a brother. 
Soothing far more than a mother. 

Two years old, and yet quite ripe 
My little bulldog, brier pipe. 

Yes, he goes to church on Sunday 
(Oftentimes to worse on Monday) ; 
Then, of course, he's under cover. 
Yet this patient little lover, 

48 



A Collection of College Verse 

Grumbling, hateful ways disdaining. 
Ne'er was known to be complaining. 

Two years old, yet strong and ripe - 
My litde bulldog, brier pipe. 

Over there at Charlie's soaking. 
Round a social table smoking. 
Pouring over analytics. 
Talking football with the critics. 
Making love to German lasses. 
Walking 'midst the crowded masses. 
He is with me strong and ripe. 
My litde bulldog, brier pipe. 

Cheer and comfort always lending 

With his curling smoke ascending ; 

Never cold and apathetic. 

Always warm and sympathetic. 

He and I are single-hearted. 

He and I have never parted. 

Yes, I love this strong, this ripe. 
This litde bulldog, brier pipe. 

F. S. CAI 



49 



With Pipe and Book 

RING-DOVES AND ROSES 

O Youth and Love and plighted faith. 
They laugh to scorn the thoughts of death 

With merry quips and dukes ; 
While memories of eyes of brown 
And lids Maid Modesty kissed down. 

Beat softly in the pulses. 

And oh ! and aye ! 

As Time files by. 

The sweetest chords may twang awry. 

And song oft sinks to sobbing. 

But roses die in cheeks so fair. 

White age steals lighdy through the hair. 

The scorn of youth defying. 
And compliment is out of tune. 
And through the balmy bowers of June 

The Autumn winds go sighing. 

And oh ! and aye ! 

But Youth fiits by, 

I catch the echo of a sigh 

Within my heart low throbbing. ■ 

CHAUNCEY WETMORE WELLS. 
50 



A Collection of College Verse 

OH, FOR THE STORM-SCARRED 
HEADLANDS 

Oh, for the storm-scarred headlands. 

The hoarse, unresting seas. 
The shifting mist and sunshine. 

The cool, soft eastern breeze ! 

Oh, to trace the low pine woodlands. 

Or walk the windy shore. 
Or feel the muscle tighten 

Against the straining oar ! 

Sweeter than harp or sackbut 

To weary ear and brain. 
The lapwing's low, wild whistle. 

The sea-gull's angry skane. 

Better than books or study 

On gorse-grown cliffs to lie. 
And watch the cloud-wrack slowly 

Climb up the summer sky. 

Oh, for the blackened headlands. 
The hoarse, tumultuous seas. 

The trailing mists and shadows. 
The strong, salt eastern breeze. 

A. M. LORD. 

51 



With Pipe and Book 

AT SWEET SIXTEEN 

At sweet sixteen, with roseate hue 
The blushing morn comes into view. 
And kisses with surpassing grace 
The beauty of a maiden's face. 
O blushing morn, would I were you ! 

The maiden smiles, with love-light true. 
Oh, would that love were entre nous. 
And in her heart I had a place. 
At sweet sixteen. 

If she but felt, if she but knew. 
The love which thus her beauty drew. 
Then, smiling o'er her happy face, 
I'd never leave the morn a place 
To touch those lips, where Cupid flew. 
At sweet sixteen. 



N. H. PITMAN. 



-«- 



APRIL 

April, a lovely little maid thou art. 

Thyself so trustful and so pure in heart. 

Thine hair of gold for dancing sunbeams meet. 
Thine eyes of blue and face so dainty sweet 
52 



A Collection of College Verse 

Alas, thine eyes are often filled with tears 
At eve, to gently sob thyself to sleep. 

Next morn to wake, a happy child that clears 
Away all cares and sorrows, howe'er deep. 

Around thy head, a wreath of mayflowers 
twined. 
White and sweet pink, thine own cheeks 
rivalling. 
Breathing new hope and life in balmy wind 
Thou comest, cheerful daughter of the spring. 

Thou bringest joy and peace to all mankind. 
And all our hearts in love to thee dost bind. 

JAMES DAWES WILLIAMS. 



A HUMBLE ROMANCE 

Her ways were rather frightened, and she wasn't 
much to see. 

She wasn't good at small talk or quick at rep- 
artee. 

Her gown was somewhat lacking in the proper 
cut and tone, 

53 



With Pipe and Book 

And it wasn't difficult to see she'd made it all 

alone. 
So the gay young men whose notice would have 

filled her with delight 
Paid very small attention to the litde girl in 

white. 

He couldn't talk the theatre, for he hadn't time 

to go. 
And, though he knew that hay was high and 

butter rather low. 
He couldn't say the airy things that other men 

rehearse. 
While his waltzing was so rusty that he didn't 

dare reverse. 
The beauties whom he sighed for were most 

frigidly polite. 
So perforce he came and sat beside the litde 

girl in white. 

She soon forgot her envy of the glittering beau 

mondey 
For their common love of horses proved a sym- 

pathedc bond. 
She told him all about the farm, and how she 

came to town, 

54 



A Collection of College Verse 

And showed the honest little heart beneath the 

home-made gown. 
A humble tale, you say, — and yet he blesses 

now the night 
When first he came and sat beside the little girl 

in white. 

JULIET WILBUR TOMPKINS. 



IF I BUT KNEW 

If I but knew what the tree-tops say. 

Whispering secrets night and day; 
If I but knew what the birds on high 
So sweetly warble beneath Love's sky, 
I'd make a song 
For you 
To sing throughout your whole life long — 
If I but knew. 

If I but knew how the lilies brew 

Nectar rare from a drop of dew; 
If I but knew what in trellised bowers 
The night-winds tell to listening flowers, 
I'd make a song 
For you, 
55 



With Pipe and Book 

And speak of days when Love was strong 
If I but knew. 



If I but knew what brook and river 

Murmur sofdy, murmur ever ; 
If I but knew a tuneful word. 

Sweet as the note of a wooing bird. 
That word I'd sing 
To you. 
An answer from your lips to bring — 
If I but knew. 



DIE WEINSTUBE 

The coziest nook 

That good friends know 
Is the litde old room at the end of the hall. 

Wherever you look 

The maxims show. 

And there in a row. 

Good comrades all. 
Hang seven old tankards on the wall. 

56 



A Collection of College Verse 

A good man laughs 

In a jovial way. 
Knows never the strength of sorrowful thrall. 

And vows as he quaffs 

That a king might pay 

To dream one day 

Where the shadows fall 
Of hfe and love and dear friends all. 

Sympathy, cheer. 

And a lyrical song 
And that is the way content is found. 

Hopes that are dear. 

Hearts that are strong, 

Cares that belong 

Under the ground. 
And that is the way the world goes round. 

Old friends who hear 
Have never a moan 
For dear days perished and buried all ; 
Youth's young cheer 
Comes following on. 
So we take down 
When the dead leaves fall, 
57 



With Pipe and Book 

Take down for youth and dear friends all. 
The seven old tankards on the wall. 

ROBERT L. MUNGER. 



DOROTHY 



In happy times and merry whiles 

This song might garland o'er with smiles 

The new-born love that cradled lies 

Within thine eyes : 

Wheti far-off wedding bells a- chime 
Are touched with magic wand^ 

And life is at the crescent time. 
And all is fairyland. 

Then Song and Echo in my rhyme 
Go straying hand in hand. 

But if thy heart is turned from me. 
Then empty is my heart for thee. 
And this sad lay is wandering through : 

When lilting love-songs lose their grace. 
And jealousies arise, 
58 



A Collection of College Verse 

A?id steals a mist across the face. 

Where love a-gaxing lies, 
O then are sobs in Echo* s voice. 

And tears within her eyes. 

CHAUNCEY WETMORE WELLS. 



FAIRYLAND 



Sith none that breatheth living aire does know- 
Where is that happie land of Faerie. — Spenser. 

Fairyland, oh, Fairyland ! 
Show us the road to Fairyland. 
We are weary of work and woe. 
Along our pathway the briers grow. 
And high is the hedge on either hand. 
Far have we fared from the Fairyland, 

Fairyland, oh, Fairyland ! 
Show us the road to Fairyland. 

Fairyland, oh, Fairyland! 
Lost is the road to Fairyland ; 
Across the storied years it winds. 
Through human hearts and human minds. 
59 



With Pipe and Book 

None liveth now who may understand 
The mystic magic of Fairyland. 
Fairyland, oh, Fairyland ! 
Lost is the road to Fairyland. 

Fairyland, oh, Fairyland ! 
Who will win back to Fairyland ? 
He who dwells in the yesterdays 
May find the path o*er ** ferny braes,** 
May meet the queen of the elfin band. 
And come to the long-lost Fairyland. 

Fairyland, oh, Fairyland ! 
Who will win back to Fairyland ? 

MARY HOLLANDS McLEAN. 



TRIOLET 



She wears a rose upon her breast ; 

My heart is folded in the leaves. 
By fine and filmy lace caressed 
She wears a rose upon her breast. 
And little dreams how fair a nest 

For my poor heart each petal weaves. 
She wears a rose upon her breast ; 

My heart is folded in the leaves. 
60 



A Collection of College Verse 

IN THE DARK 

Have you ever been a-walking on the grim old 

hills at night. 
When the stars go twinkle-twinkle, and the 

moon is not in sight. 
And the big trees in the forest seem to keep 

out all the light ? 



You hear a noise behind you, and you start, you 

don't know why. 
And somethin* in the darkness seems to moan 

and pass you by. 
And the blackness, gettin' blacker, shuts you off 

from all the sky. 

Our ancestors were foolish to believe in spright 

or fay. 
Or in ghosts that love the darkest night and 

always shun the day. 
And that spirits of the dead still walk in their 

mysterious way. 
Yet, though it's kind o' childish, I sometimes 

feel as though 

6i 



With Pipe and Book 

They weren't so wrong as we believe, and 

maybe here below 
There's more around us in the dark than any of 

us know. 

JAMES BISSETT PRATT. 

-♦ 



CHIVALRY 



From out the deep and soulless gloom. 
That his own hand could scarce relume, 
A voice was heard, as from a tomb, — 
** For God and her ! " 

And straightway in that darksome time. 
The kloster bells began to chime 
In sweet, rare tones of song sublime, — 
"For God and her!" 

Athwart the gloom bright arms flashed light. 
While on the lance he bore, each knight 
Inscribed these magic words of might, — 
**For God and her!" 

Then ghastly shadows fled away. 
And through the darkness stole the gray 
Of hope's fair morning, and the day 
For God and her. 
62 



A Collection of College Verse 

And when at last within its tomb 
The knight had swept the lingering gloom, 
Achilles-like, he faced his doom. 
For God and her. 

The knight is gone ; but yet we see 
Within best manhood, beating free. 
The ancient heart of Chivalry, — 
"For God and her!" 

T. W. BUCHANAN. 



TWILIGHT SONG 

Sweetheart, night is falling. 

Falling 

Soft o'er land and sea. 

And my love is calling. 

Calling 

Through the night to thee. 

Fairy fire-lights gleaming. 
Gleaming, 
Dancing merrily. 
Heed me not a-dreaming. 
Dreaming 
Dearest heart of thee. 

63 



With Pipe and Book 

But the shadows playing. 

Playing, 
Seek to comfort me. 
And afar go straying. 

Straying, 
Through the night to thee ; 

Till about thee bending. 
Bending, 
Tell with kisses light 
That to thee I'm sending. 
Sending 
All my love to-night. 



THE NINETEENTH CENTURY 

As one who, coming from a darkened place 
Into full daylight, dazzled by the glare. 
Sees nothing of the beauty that is there. 
But only lurid spots that whirl and race ; 
And stands a moment with bewildered face 
Till the mists vanish, and the landscape fair 
Appears in all its glorious splendor rare 
Where sun and wavering shadow interlace ; 

64 



A Collection of College Verse 

So we from ignorance, into the day 

Of knowledge coming suddenly, assailed 

By the fierce light of new-found truth, have 

failed 
To see the glory that before us lay. 
But presendy the mists will clear away. 
And, wondering, we shall see God's face, 

unveiled. 

HARRY RUTGERS CONGERo 



MABEL 



When Mabel, in the springdme. 
Leans on the garden gate. 

The blossoms come to meet her 
The roses dare not wait. 

When Mabel, in the summer. 
Stands in the grassy lane. 

The daisies nod about her — 
Bees follow in her train. 

When Mabel, in the autumn. 
Walks on the windy street. 

The blushing leaves attend her. 
And chase her hurrying feet. 

65 



With Pipe and Book 

When Mabel, in the winter. 

Rides in the merry air. 
The snowflakes crowd to kiss her. 

And loiter in her hair. 

While I, in all the seasons. 
Join the constant chase — 

In turn, as flower or snowflake. 
Pursuing one fair face! 



THE GLEE CLUB CONCERT 



The club sings to-night — 
Are they nervous, I wonder. 

Hoping all will go right 

When the club sings to-night ? 

God save the poor wight 

Who by chance makes a blunder! 

The club sings to-night — 
Are they nervous, I wonder ? 



My heart sings to-night. 

For to-night I will meet her. 
66 



A Collection of College Verse 

Oh, the world is all bright. 
And my heart sings to-night. 
The club is all right. 

But I think my song sweeter. 
For my heart sings, <* To-night, 

Oh, to-night, I will meet her! " 



The world sings to-night. 
Though the concert is over. 

Oh, my heart is light! 

The whole world sings to-night. 

She has said that I might 
For eternity love her. 

And the world sings to-night. 
Though the concert is over. 

JAMES WEBER LINN. 



FREE LANCES 

A-RiDiNG, a-riding i' the growing morning 

light! 
The bugles blow, and all a-row our lances 

glitter bright. 

67 



With Pipe and Book 

Along the winding river, beside the beached sea. 
By lonely tower, or high-walled town, or 

heathy wastes of lea ; 
Where'er we go, whate'er good cause our 

strong right arms may claim, 
God guide us, merry gentlemen, and keep our 

swords from shame. 

We squire to no lady's whims, we serve nor 

church nor lords. 
But worship upon God's green hills, and love 

our own bright swords. 
Let friars pray, and striplings love, and courtiers 

bend the knee. 
While blood is hot and muscle firm, our hearts 

and hands are free. 
A-riding, a-riding, — the east is all aflame : 
God guide us, merry gentlemen, and keep our 

swords from shame. 

AUGUSTUS M. LORD, 



A RONDEAU 

Clarissa laughs. I plead in vain ; 
She hears my suit with sweet disdain. 
68 



A Collection of College Verse 

When I remind her — speaking low — 
That once she did not flout me so. 
She asks me — do I think 'twill rain. 
Then when in anger I am fain 
To leave her, swear I've naught to gain 
By staying, save th' increase of woe, 
Clarissa laughs. 

Yet when I beg of her to deign 

To answer, give it joy or pain. 

She smiles. So then I cannot go. 

For with her smiles my love doth grow. 

Yet when I press my suit again, 

Clarissa laughs. 

RUTH PARSONS MILNE 



A MISUNDERSTANDING 

Came the West Wind, careless rover. 
Came and lightly kissed the rose. 
No one knows. 

No one knows the whole world over. 
Why she turned her head away ; 

69 



With Pipe and Book 

Turned, his coming would not greet. 
When the West Wind kissed her sweet. 

Then the West Wind, reckless lover, 
Lighdy, lighdy shook the rose. 
No one knows 
How, dismayed, he sighed above her ; 

For her petals, one by one. 
Fell, down-dropping strewn they lay ; 
Then the West Wind stole away. 

s. c. w. 



LOVE'S ORIGIN 

Midst the deepening shades of night, infant 
night. 
Look above, look above ! 
While the leaf a love-lay breathes from its 

height ; 
While the shadows hide the dross and the 
blight ; 
All is love. All is love ! 
List the chant of distant bells on the air. 
Up above, up above ! 
70 



A Collection of College Verse 

Through the honey of the dew, O so fair ! 
Through the depth of silent thought, ah ! up 
there 

All is love. AW is love ! 
Melting music from afar on the ears, 

God above, God above ! 
Lulls to sleep the rolling years, anguished 

years. 
All the pain and bitter strife, inward tears. 

For all is love. All is love ! 

ARTHUR D. CALL. 



THE CROCUSES 

High in the night hung the moon, so cold. 
Bending down to the earth, so old. 
With her finger-tips on her icy lips. 
Hiding her face in a cloud eclipse, 
Silendy touched the crocus cups. 
The shivering crocus cups. 

Back shrank the spirit of Spring, so chilled ; 
Eyes with the tears of a hurt so filled ; 
71 



With Pipe and Book 

But pitiful Night, with a coverlet white, 
Crooning a lullaby, tucked out of sight 
The quivering crocus cups. 

Deep in the crocus heart, so still. 
Slumbered the soul of Spring, until 
Through the tears and sighs of April skies 
The sun dropped a kiss on the wide, sweet eyes 
Smiling up from the crocus cups. 
The trembling crocus cups. 

MARY HEFFERAN. 



POLLY, MY SWEETHEART 

O, Polly, my sweetheart, so tender and true. 
Alone in the gloaming I'm thinking of you. 
And Polly, my sweetheart, my heart says to me. 
Wherever she is, she is thinking of thee ! 

O, Polly, my sweetheart, so tender and true. 
How long are the days till I'm married to you. 
And, Polly, my sweetheart, my heart says to 

me. 
The days are as long, too, for her as for thee. 
72 



A Collection of College Verse 

O, Polly, my sweetheart, so tender and true, 
I'll laugh at the king when I'm married to you. 
And, Polly, my sweetheart, my heart says to 

me. 
She'll blush like the rose as she listens to thee. 

O, Polly, my sweetheart, the dark day must 

come 
When fond eyes are darkened and dear lips are 

dumb. 
But, Polly, my sweetheart, my heart says to me. 
Wherever the one is the other shall be ! 

S. A. JONES. 



SONG 



To-day's to-day, and what's to-morrow ? 

Here's a tankard unto sorrow. 

The past is dead, and who will borrow 

Care from what is yet to come ? 
We have journeyed o'er the stubble. 
Arm in arm with sad-eyed trouble. 
Care will vanish as this bubble. 

Sing the louder ; are you dumb ? 
73 



With Pipe and Book 

In this wine there lurks a fairy. 
See, she bids you all be merry ! 
Drink a goblet of this sherry. 

Pledge with us again a toast ! 
Seize the moment e*er it passes. 
Drink the wine up, drain the glasses. 
Drink a health to all the lasses. 

Pledge the girl you love the most. 



If the one that you adore is 

Graced with all her wondrous glories. 

Be she Bess or dark Dolores, 

You're the one to know it best. 
And if other names incite you. 
Here's to her who may delight you. 
If in doubt this cup will right you. 

Pledge the one you last caressed ! 

In this draught you'll find a treasure. 
Just but see its golden measure ! 
I will warrant there's no pleasure 
Such as lurks within this glass ! 
Let the outer world abuse us. 
If they drank of this they'd choose us, 
74 



A Collection of College Verse 

But in hollow love they lose us 
Till their dusty lives do pass. 

EUGENE RICHARD WHITE. 



MY OLD GUITAR 

By some eastern river thy rosewood grew. 
Thy inlaid pearl in the restless sea ; 

What craftsman moulded thy bosom fair. 
Sounding with dreamy melody ? 

What maiden's fingers have swept thy strings. 
In the distant vistas of long ago ? 

What love-lorn gallant has sung his lay 
To thy tuneful cadence sweet and low ? 

What odors of romance round thee cling. 
As each chord swells in thy bosom deep ? 

Whispering long-forgotten loves. 
Trilling the soul to rest and sleep. 

Oh, Muse, who dwells in the hollow shrine 
Of my old guitar with its tales of yore. 

Grant me the power to wake thy strains 
In music sweeter than e'er before. 

F. G. HINSDALE. 

75 



With Pipe and Book 

JOCK AND JENNY 

Oh, Jock and Jenny, they went to the fair ; 
So gay and so charming was never a pair. 
No lad was so bold and no lassie so sweet, — 
And the piper played faster to follow their feet. 
Trip it high ! 
Trip it low ! 
Join hands and curtsey ^ then off with a swing. 
And follow your partner around in the ring ; 
Now fast ! 
Now slow ! 
So long as the sun shines this bright summer 

dayy 
We"* II trip it and ship it, so blithe and so gay. 

Said Jock, "I've but threepence ; 'twill be but 

a bite. 
The parritch we'll sup on thegither the night." 
Said Jenny, ** 'Twill do for a bit o' a treat ; 
Let's laugh and be merry, — there's nae need 

to greet. 

"There's ane for a token; we'll break it in 

twa. 
And swear to be leal till the last day o' a' ; 
76 



A Collection of College Verse 

And ane for a ribband to twist in my hair. 
And there's ane for the piper and there's — 
naething mair." 

Said Jock, "I'll not hunger ; I have na a fear. 
For I'll feed on the smiles o' your mouth, Jenny 

dear ; 
As for drinkin', the glent o' your bonnie brown ee 
Is makin' me toisie, as 'twere barley-bree." 

Then Jenny looked up with a roguish surprise. 
And whispered, ** Sure, Jock, ye are tellin' me 

lies ; 
But whilst ye are dinin' sae dainty and well 
I'll be wantin' a bit o' a sweetie mysel'." 

Oh, Jock and Jenny, they went to the fair. 
So gay and so charming was never a pair. 
No lad was so bold and no lassie so sweet, — 
Going home in the moonlight thro' acres of 
wheat. 

LOUIS PACKARD GILLESPIE 



n 



With Pipe and Book 

THE FIRST SNOWSTORM 

A Child's Poem 

Little Miss Snowflake, dressed in white. 
Came down the dusty road one night. 
Her dress was as white as a piece of chalk. 
And she pranced around, but did not walk ; 
For she was going to a ball that night. 
And that was the reason she dressed in white. 
There were fifty thousand, and many more, too. 
And they looked like the children that lived in 

the shoe. 
They had for music, that happy night, 
A little brook that sang about flight ; 
They had for chorus the rustling leaves 
That came from the top of the tallest trees. 

EMILY EUGENIA MORRIS. 



UPON HER MANDOLIN 

The roses climb and cluster 
On Margery's lattice tall ; 

Aloft, with lucent lustre. 

Stars gem the heavenly hall ; 
78 



A Collection of College Verse 

Soft cadences are straying 

Where silence late hath been : 

'Tis bonny Margery playing 
Upon her mandolin. 



The crickets cease their trilling 

Amid the grassy aisles ; 
Charmed by the music thrilling. 

The drooping jasmine smiles ; 
The mocking-bird, delaying. 

Forgets his silvery din. 
And lists to Margery's playing 

Upon her mandolin. 

In envy, 'neath her bower. 

Whose blossoms scent the gale. 
Her lover sees a flow^er 

The slender lattice scale ; 
I ween there is no saying 

What he'd not dare, to win 
The brown-eyed Margery playing 

Upon her mandolin. 

CLINTON SCOLLARD. 



79 



With Pipe and Book 

SUPPOSE 

A SOFT cloud is drifting away in the night, — 
Drifting away in the pale starlight ; 
With the gentle moon to shine on me. 
And the glimmer of stars for company. 
Wrapped in the downy folds to lie. 
With the night-wind to kiss me a soft lullaby. 
Answer me, is there sweeter bliss 
Than this ? 

But what if the storm-winds should arise, 
As I drift with the cloud thro' the starlit skies ; 
And the moon should hide and the stars go in. 
And with tear-drops big should the rain begin, 
I cannot but think that I might weep too. 
As my soft downy quilt to a wet sheet grew ; 
And I might be dropped in a big thorn tree. 
Ah me! 



THE SONG OF THE JOLLY FAT 
FRIAR 

A JOLLY fat friar once lived in a dell ; 
He told oft his beads, and he toll'd oft his bell ; 
80 



A Collection of College Verse 

Though he didn't fear heaven, he wouldn't fear 

hell. 
For he liked Billy Satan a trifle too well. 
Chorus : 

Oh ! ' Twas ding ! dong ! ding ! dong / 

gluckety ! gluckety! gluck! 
He pulled at the belly a good pull and strong. 
Then pulled at the jlagon for lucky 
With a gluckety ! gluckety ! gluck ! 

This jolly fat friar threw over his care. 
With merry good fellows and jolly good fun. 
He learned from the wine-cup a new-fashioned 

prayer. 
And morning and evening he'd over it run. 
Chorus : 

With a ding! dong! etc. 

It 'gan with the famous old Latin word *'hoc," 
And rambled along o'er the saints of his stock. 
Till the flagon grew thin and his mutterings 

grew thick. 
When it ended itself with an infamous **hic!" 
Chorus : 

Oh ! ' twas ding ! dong ! etc. 

CLAY ARTHUR PIERCE. 

8i 



With Pipe and Book 

A VALENTINE 

I'm penning you a greeting 

This sweet confession-time 
With Cupid gently beating 

The music of its rhyme. 
Pray list to my entreating. 

Pray read this pleading line. 
For I in song so deeply long 

To be your Valentine. 

My page will soon be bearing 

This message Love has framed. 
And eager hopes preparing 

To share what it has claimed ; 
Let, dear, your heart be daring. 

Give Cupid but a sign 
That he may say for this one day 

I am your Valentine. 

My page will whisper sweeter 
Confessions than I write ; 

His cunning wings are fleeter 
Than flash of morning light. 
82 



A Collection of College Verse 

Forth, Cupid, then, and greet her. 
Breathe magic words of thine. 

And backward fly, and say that I 
May be her Valentine. 

S. T. LIVINGSTON. 



WHEN LOVE WAS BORN 

When Love was born, he found all nature 

drear ; 
The silent birds knew naught of friendly cheer. 
And forest trees were bare. The sweet 

breath' d pine 
Gasped on the earth. But nature 'came 
divine 
When Cupid dropped from God with winged 
spear. 

Each star, till then fast fixed in its sphere. 
Sped through the shady blue like startled deer. 
And knelt adoring at some planet's shrine. 
When Love was born. 

The birds built nests, rejoicing far and near ; 
The air was music with their glad career ; 
^3 



With Pipe and Book 

Light zephyrs kissed the joining tree and vine : 
For God gave to the world this Valentine, 
And bade the sun-clouds drop a joyous tear. 
When Love was born. 

NORMAN HUTCHINSON. 



MY LADY NICOTINE 

Realmed in the dreams of Fancy, 

Crowned with the pearl of smoke. 
From the lost land of necromancy 

My lady of old I invoke 
My lady of Nicotina, 

As gay as the laughter of dreams. 
As subtle as purring waters. 

As fair as the woodland streams. 

Crowned in moments of pleasure, 

A friend in time of fear. 
Like the sway of a love-caught measure. 

She speaks her word in my ear. 
Until in moments of longing 

She banishes doubt and regret. 
And I touch her lips uplifted 

With the wand of my cigarette. 

84 



A Collection of College Verse 

You awake from the dreams of Hashan, 

There is doubt in your castles of Spain, 
Love lurks in eyes Caucasian 

To leave them again and again ; 
Yet soft at the hint of my bidding. 

There floats on my vision a queen 
Who lurks in dreams and fancies. 

My lady of Nicotine. 



THE NIGHT-WIND'S SONG 

The night-wind sings ever of thee, sweetheart. 

Tenderly low ; 
The night-wind bears its song to me, sweetheart. 

Through moonbeams* glow. 
And the night- wind's song and mine are one. 
And together of thee we sing, my own. 

We love thee so. 

The night-wind has drunk of thine eyes, 
sweetheart. 

And kissed thy hair. 
The night-wind thy every glance espies, 
sweetheart. 

Thy joys doth share. 
85 



With Pipe and Book 

And ever it brings a breath of thee 
That fills my soul with ecstasy. 
Oh, sweetheart fair. 

HARRY C. PORTER. 



LULLABY 



Dreamily, dreamily, swinging, swaying. 
Blow as the blossoms blow, — 

Babekyn rocks in a faery cradle. 
Now high, now low. 

Babekyn rocks in faery cradle. 

Hung from the white moon's horn. 

Pillowed on clinging, shimmering fleeces. 
From bright clouds shorn. 

Merrily, gleefully, tossing, rocking. 

Sunshine on every side, — 
Appleblows daintiest, sweetest, palest. 

His Majesty hide. 

Gleefully, daintily, swinging, swaying. 
Blossoms blow light in the wind ; 

Dawn-tinted petals fall thickly, till Baby 
Is hard to find. 

86 



A Collection of College Verse 

Wearily, wearily, rocking, swaying. 

Even the robins rest ; 
When the sun is dead and the blossoms shiver 

Long dreams are best. 

EMILY S. JOHNSON. 



WHERE LOVE DWELLS 

Canst thou tell me where love dwells ? 
Is it in the tender bells 

Of the wakening flowers at morn ? 
Is it in the starry skies. 
Ever twinkling lullabies 

To the spirits sorrow-worn ? 

Canst thou tell me where love sleeps ? 
Is it in the mystic deeps 

Of poet* s fondest fancy? 
Poesy! the echo long 
Of thy minstrelsy and song 

Dies as a music on the sea. 

Where, then, tell me, dost love rest ? 
It is in the heart that best 
Bears its sorrow love is born. 
87 



With Pipe and Book 

In gentle Faith — there love abides 
Whispering that naught besides 
Holds the spirits sorrow-worn. 

LEWIS L. BRASTOW. 



IMMER MEHR 

It was just a sweet song that she sang, 
A mystic and wonderful song ; 

Through the halls of my being it rang. 
And echoed so clear and so strong 
That I cried, **This is more than a song.'* 

It was only a word that she spoke, — 

A tender and beautiful word ; 
Yet the voice of my passion it woke. 

As dawn wakes the voice of a bird. 

And I said, **This is more than a word." 

It was only a clasp of the hand. 

And a glance from two lovely dark eyes 

That timidly, dreamfully scanned 
My own, seeking love to disguise. 
But I saw there was love in her eyes. 
88 



A Collection of College Verse 

And the love half-concealed in her eyes 
Met the love that was restless in mine. 

And her blushes were sudden to rise 
As the tongue of the flame by a shrine. 
Then I whispered, **I know she is mine.'* 

THOMAS POTTER SANBORN. 



MY HOUNDS 

When *neath my window's bar my good hounds 
growl. 
And through the darkness frantic rushes make 
At unseen foes, until the echoes wake 
And lift their voices up in answering howl ; 
Then do I scorn the terrors of the dark. 
And laugh aloud, and cry out in delight, 
** No danger need I tremble at to-night — 
My good hounds bark." 

But when no deep-toned baying breaks the 
hush. 
When all the silent night my ears I strain 
To hear their watchful muttering, in vain. 



With Pipe and Book 

And the ground quakes not with their sudden 

rush. 
Then shadowy forms my chamber seem to fill. 
And stealthy footsteps on the stair I hear ; 
My heart leaps, quivering with a nameless 
fear — 

My hounds are still. 

JULIET WILBUR TOMPKINS. 



SONG OF RETURN 

Come, love, come where lilies blow. 

For the long grass waves in the sun. 
And the wind is kissing the dew from the 
flowers 

One by one. 

Oh come where wandering rivers find 
Their home in the heart of the sea. 
And I'll tell thee how this vagrant heart 
Hies back to thee. 

Come o'er the hills to the Sunset Gate, 
When crimson couriers run 
90 



A Collection of College Verse 

To tell in the land of the Evening Queen 
That Day is done. 

Oh come to the glimmering lake's brown marge. 

Where the waters soon will be 

At rest with the holy vesper hour ; 

So I with thee. 

Come out in the silent night, my love. 

Oh come to me ! 
For I am here beneath the stars. 

Returned to thee. 
And thou art mine, I thine for all 

Eternity ! 



PROM. ROSES 

Only a bunch of roses fair, 
A cluster of pink and white, 

Roses that nod to the music low. 
The flowers she wore that night. 

She tenderly lifts each drooping head 
That gracefully tosses there. 

And the dainty flowers, nestling close. 
Smile back at the maiden fair. 
91 



With Pipe and Book 

"How beautiful they are," she said. 
As she pressed them to her cheek, 

**Why, the opened petals almost seem 
As if they were trying to speak." 

I wonder why she cannot hear 
The song that the flowers sing, 

I wonder if she knows or cares 
For the message the roses bring. 

JAMES p. SAWYER. 



LOST LOVE 

In my heart a silent chamber. 

No one dwells there, no one enters. 

From the walls the busy spiders drop and spin 

their webs of gauze. 
Watch and weave in vain endeavor. 
Weak and dying, fall forever. 
While the gray dust sifts and settles, all along 

the barren floors. 

Once it was the scene of splendor. 
Light and gladness, joy and glory. 
There my princess dwelt in beauty, never seen 
on earth before ; 
92 



A Collection of College Verse 

And the candles by the fire 
Leaped and quivered with desire. 
Joy that she should look upon them, longed to 
feel her presence more. 

By the ancient carven portal 

Hangs the key now rusted, broken. 

And across the bare, garret windows stretch 

the curtains, old and thin ; 
Time has dimmed them, moths have eaten. 
Winter storms have tossed and beaten. 
In my chamber, silence, darkness ; sunshine 

never enters in. 



THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM 

One star from all eternity has hung. 

The porch-light of God's house, to be a guide 
To weary angels, speeding to his side 

From ministry on earth ; and shines among 

The lesser lights with glory that has sprung 
From nearness to his presence, and the wide 
White gates of Heaven, where the hosts abide 

Who chant his praise with undefiled tongue 
93 



With Pipe and Book 

But once, when wise men journeyed from afar 
With gifts of gold and incense in their hands, 

God left the portals dark, and sent his star 
To guide their footsteps over desert sands. 

To where, in stable, as the oxen are, 

A little child lay wrapped in swaddling 
bands. 

ELIZABETH KEMPER ADAMS. 



DREAM SONG 

At eventide, at eventide. 

When the golden sun drops into the sea. 
Then over the waters, deep and wide. 

The little dreams wander so gleefully. 
Some come on rafts, and some in boats. 
Or anything else that sails and floats! 

They moor their ships, they moor their ships. 

Just as the stars begin to peep. 
And silently each little dreamling slips 

Through the nursery windows, where children 
sleep. 
And they sit on the children's pillows all night 
Telling them stories till broad daylight! 
94 



A Collection of College Verse 

They tell such tales, they tell such tales. 
Of gardens as fair as the Paradise ! 

Of mermaids and nixies, — and giant whales 
That live far north, midst the snow and ice, — 

Or of countries where always 'tis Saturday, 

And children do nothing else but play ! 

But when dawn draws nigh, when dawn draws 
nigh. 

The dreams flit back to their boats again. 
And the stars, one by one, drop out of the sky. 

And the moon's bright lamp begins to wane. 
Then they sail to the land of the rising sun 
To wait there and play, till day is done. 

GERTRUDE CRAVEN. 



WHERE CUPID DWELLS 

Way over the seas, in a far, far land. 

Where skies are blue and gold ; 
Where ripples break on a silver sand. 
And sunbeams ne'er grow old ; 
There's a dale where Cupid dwells, they say. 
And 'tis there that he rests from his frolic play. 
95 



With Pipe and Book 

Oh, there's many a lass and many a swain 

That knows of his shafts made there ; 
For Cupid spares naught of a deep heart-pain. 
Though love be all his care. 
And I think he should make a reflection or two. 
When he rests over there from his play. Don't 
you ? 

ROBERT L. MUNGER. 



WOODLAND WHISPERS 

O GROVES of my own dear home-land 

Wrapped in tender twilight shades. 
My soul goes out in longing 

For your dim and sheltered glades. 
With their sweet familiar murmurs 

Which I still in fancy hear 
Like a strain of distant music. 

Falling soft upon my ear. 

O dells of my boyhood roamings 
Glamoured with the spell of youth, 

'Midst your soft and hallowed gloamings 
Every fancy seemed a truth, 

96 



A Collection of College Verse 

And the pure untainted fragrance 
Breathed from out the forest aisles 

Seems to haunt me in my vagrance 
Through the weary waste of miles. 

Ye dear and hallowed echoes. 

With your wistful, sad refrain. 
Ye breathe through all my spirit. 

Till I scarce can quell the pain 
Of the longing for the dear days 

That have fled into the gloom. 
With the dusky, tangled byways 

And the woodland's sweet perfume. 

R. P. COOKE. 



SONG OF THE SEA FLIGHT 

Sing ho ! sing ho ! for the sailing, O ! 

For the salt, salt surge and the winds that blow! 

And the foam that's flung from the rail, bent low 

O'er the roaring sea! 
Sing ho! then, loud, for the rattling shroud. 
The whistling gale, and the scudding cloud. 
And the gay gull soaring on pinions proud 

So far and free! 
97 



With Pipe and Book 

Sing ho for the stars that bloom at night! 
For the streaming wake, soft-sown with light! 
And the face that shines in the moon's mist 
white 

Near, near, and sweet! 
For the tale oft- told that will ne'er grow old. 
The shy, sweet glance, and the hand-clasp bold. 
And the mad, wild music that young hearts hold 

When warm lips meet! 

Then ho for the salt sea's breath divine! 
It thrills the blood like the rage of wine 
As, borne by long billows that shake and shine. 

We lose the lea! 
Unsullied the breezes sing and sweep ; 
Forgot are dull shoreward hours that creep ; 
With joy past naming our pulses leap 

Far out at sea! 

W. C. H. 



A MAY SONG 

Heydey! for the maids of May! 

Love alone is the game to play! 

98 



A Collection of College Verse 

Turn on me your girlish glances. 
Every look my love enhances. 
Every smile my heart entrances. 
Oh, May, I pray but stay! 

Heydey ! for the maids of May! 

Laughing, loving, blithe and gay! 
Laugh and part your lips in singing. 
Let my heart w^ith echoes ringing. 
Haste the hours upon their winging. 

Oh, May, but stay, I pray! 

Heydey ! for the maids of May ! 

Love and life have come to stay! 
Still, alas! v^hilst I am singing. 
List how Cupid's bow is ringing. 
See how deep his darts are stinging. 

Oh, May, I pray, awa;^ ! 

CHARLES SUMNER PIKE. 



JACQUEMINOT 

Are you filled with wonder. Jacqueminot, 
Do you think me mad that I kiss you so ? 
If a rose could one of its thoughts express, 
I'd find you mocking, I more than guess; 
99 



With Pipe and Book 

And yet if you vow me a fond old fool. 
Just think if your own sweet pulse was cool 
When you lay in her tresses an hour ago. 
Jacqueminot. 

This pale, proud girl, you must understand. 

Held all my fate in her small white hand. 

And when I asked her to be my bride. 

She wanted a day to think, — decide ; 

And I asked her, if her answer were ;/<?, she'd 

wear 
A Marshal Niel to the ball in her hair. 
But if 'twere ^es, she should tell me so 
By a jacqueminot 

My heart found heaven ; I had seen my sign. 
And after the dance I knew her mine. 
And I plucked you out of her warm, soft hair. 
As her stately pride stood trembling there. 
And I felt in the dark for her lips to kiss. 
And I pressed them close to my own like this^ 
And I held her cheek to my own cheek — so. 
Jacqueminot. 

FREDERIC LAWRENCE KNOWLES. 



lOO 



A Collection of College Verse 

SONG 

The dawn is where thou art, 

(My own sweetheart !^ 
In thee all songs and voices blend 
In one sweet singing without end. 

The stars are like thine eyes ; 

(^In them love lies .'^ 
In their far depths I seem to see 
Bright visions of eternity. 

Dawn and the stars depart, 
(^Not thoUy sweetheart !') 
But from my soul the dream of May 
And thee, can never fade away! 

HENRY HUNTER WELSH. 



LETTING DOWN THE BARS 

I 
Twilight falls from out the sky. 

And the moor-hen, sad and lone. 
Sobs aloft her dismal cry 

As I drive the cattle home. 

lOI 



With Pipe and Book 

O'er the moor her voice is calling. 
Sweet inflections, rising, falling, 

' Neath the promise of the stars. 
And 'twixt moor and meadow lands. 
By the rustic gateway stands 

Jessie, letting down the bars. 



Fairy fancies faintly fall 

In the chambers of my brain. 
And I seem to hear her call 

O'er the woodland hills again. 
Through the noise, the toil, the strife. 
All the cares of busy life ; 

Through the prizes and the scars. 
In my dreams I seem to see. 
With her brown hair floating free, 

Jessie, letting down the bars. 



Jessie kissed the Prince of Death, 
And he bade her silent lie ; 

But the sound of memory's breath 
In my heart can never die! 

I02 



A Collection of College Verse 

When I bring my flock of years. 
Gilded hopes and faded fears. 

To the city in the stars, 
I shall see my darling wait, 
I shall see, within the gate, 

Jessie, letting. down the bars. 

ARTHUR HOBSON QUINN. 



FAYRE LADYE LALAGE 

Belowe her Ruffe twinne Rosebuddes showe, - 
My Gifte to her ; — in Accents lowe 

She blushed and rendered Thankes to mee 
With such sweete Grace and Courtesie 
Y* in my Hearte, Hope's Flower doth blowe. 

Y° wille I presse my Suit, altho* 
I maye not guesse her Fancy's flowe 

Y^ Buddes nodde ** Courage," certainlie, 
Belowe her Ruffe. 

Y® wanton, wooing Breezes blowe 
Her warme, darke Tresses to and fro. 
And kisse her little Lippes ; — Ah, she 
103 



With Pipe and Book 

Will let me kisse them, it may bee : — 
Y® merrie Bloomes, theye don't saye **No,'* 
Belowe her RufFe. 

THOMAS PORTER SANBORN. 



TO A SPRAY OF VIOLETS 

Violets blooming beside the road. 

Like fallen pieces of yonder sky. 
Pray tell me who trespassed in your abode. 

And gathered your blossoms in passing by ? 

When I saw you, your heads were a-droop 
\ with shame, 

)^nd your petals were closed for jealousy. 
As 1 whispered to you when first you came. 

The name of a maiden dear to me. 

But baptized, you repent of that sinful mood. 
As you lean from my vase you are wondrous fair. 

And with all the grace of your native wood 
You give me the smile that she gave you there. 

ROBERT PRIESTLEY HAYES. 
104 



A Collection of College Verse 
IN CAP AND BELLS 

In cap and bells the jester sung 

At court of king, and gayly flung 
His sparkling jests at high and low. 
And made the merry laughter flow 

While yet our toiling world was young. 

But now, ah ! now, the songs that sprung 
From lips of old, and blithely rung. 
Are heard no more as long ago 
In cap and bells. 

Yet should I bring, who long have hung 
O'er mirthful tales of those who clung 
To motly, but the faintest glow 
Of their swift-flashing wit, I know 
Not all in vain my lyre is strung 

In cap and bells. 

CLINTON SCOLLARD. 



105 



With Pipe and Book 
NOW AND THEN 



O THE days, and O the dances 
Of that olden. 
Golden 
Time. 
Swords and lances. 
Tender glances. 

Love and laughter, war and rhyme 
Made the wide world all romances. 
Life a song, a wedding chime ! 



Ho, sad Sir, I match the present 
With your dusty. 
Rusty 
Time ! 
Knight and peasant. 
Cross and crescent. 

These have passed, but life's old chime 
Brings the same, now sad, now pleasant — 
Tears, love, laughter, joy and crime ! 

1 06 



A Collection of College Verse 
IN MODERN TIMES 

Weeping, there came to Venus, where she sat 
'Mid fairy bowers, within her Cyprian seat. 

Her rosy son, Cupid, the archer boy. 

And flung his sheath of arrows at her feet. 

For many years, upon love's mischief bent. 
He'd roamed at will, and sent his well-aimed 
darts ; 

But now some evil god had charmed mankind. 
For lo, his arrows failed to pierce their hearts. 

Then Venus comforted and soothed him ; called 
For clever Vulcan, and his sorrows told. 

And Vulcan, smiling, gathered up the shafts. 
And tipped each little fairy point with gold. 

Now Cupid, glad again, goes thro' the land 
Upon love's mischief bent, with bow and 
dart ; 
And where his arrows once could not avail. 
Now, tipped with gold, they pierce the hard- 
est heart. 

107 



With Pipe and Book 

HELIOTROPE 

Heliotrope of gracile mien. 
You that ever sunward lean 

In the morning's gleam and glow. 

Or when weary toilers go 
Homeward 'twixt the hedgerows green. 

Prithee, tell me, have you seen 
Blithesome, debonair Irene, 

Heard her sweet laugh overflow. 

Heliotrope ? 

Answer, you whose eyes are keen. 
Did she, like a timid queen. 

Bend to you and murmur low 

Secrets that I long to know. 
By this rose-tree's leafy screen. 

Heliotrope ? 

CLINTON SCOLLARD. 



io8 



A Collection of College Verse 

I DREAM OF THEE 

Ah, love. 
When the fleeting shadows rove 
O'er the summer hills with the breeze at play. 
And the cricket shrills in the grasses high. 
And the rainbow wings of the dragon-fly 
Weave their fairy rings where the tall flags sway, 
I dream, my love, of thee. 

Ah, love. 
When the round moon sails above. 
And the plaintive note of the whip-poor-will 
Greets my gliding boat, and the elfin light 
Of the glowworm's torch sheds its lustre white 
On my dewy march, and the night grows still, 
I dream, my love, of thee. 

CARL CHAPEAU. 



SWORD SONG 

A SOLDIER of Fortune I, 
The whole wide world's my home. 
109 



With Pipe and Book 

I own for master no lordly king. 
But astride my gray with a glove to fling. 
And my good brown blade with bitter sting 
O'er many broad lands I roam. 
No fair dame's colors I wear. 
No bright eyes flash for me ; 
My mistress is keen and hard and cold. 
But truer than women and truer than gold ; 
In the clang of fighting she's free and bold. 
My sword's my love ! 

The rattle of dice is sweet. 
And a rollicking song brings cheer. 
But the grinding ring of blade on blade. 
When thrust is turned with stifle parade. 
When the game of death is bravely played. 
Falls sweetest on my ear. 
You may talk of pouting lips. 
Or the ruby of rare old wine. 
But when mad and hot the battle fares. 
When he who wins is he who dares. 
Then bright' s the red robe my mistress wears 
My sword! My love! 

Oh, we lead a careless life. 
This brave old blade and I. 
I lo 



A Collection of College Verse 

With swagger and swing thro' the world we' 11 ride. 
And we'll hold together whate'er betide. 
And when all is done she'll rest at my side 
As cold and stark I lie. 
Now here's to a steady wrist. 
And a thrust that's always true. 
And a blade that does never a danger shun. 
That is never sheathed till the work is done. 
Till the light is over and victory won — 
My sword! My love! 

HARRY K. WEBSTER. 



WHEN THE-^ TIDE IS LOW 

The waves reach lovingly out to the sands. 

When the tide is low ; 
Gende the touch of their tremulous hands 

As they restlessly ebb and flow. 
Full many a shell whose rainbow hue 

Is softened and toned by the ocean's blue. 
Do they bring to the wanderer's raptured view. 

When the tide is low. 

And the old, old mem'ries they beckon to me. 
When the tide is low, 
1 1 1 



With Pipe and Book 

As my bark glides over the evening sea. 
And the winds of the haven blow ; 

But o?ie sweet, fond voice from the dust' ring 
throng, 
Unvexed, unmoved by my sin and wrong. 

Calls back to me like an angel's song. 
When the tide of Hfe is low. 

ELLSWORTH LEONARD. 



SERENADE 



Sleep thou, mine own, while perfumed sighs 
Of night winds whisper lullabies. 
While Nature's tears in dew-drops fall. 
And darkness dim envelopes all. 

Sleep thou, mine own, while rippling streams 
Murmur sweet music in thy dreams. 
Soft melodies of cadence rare. 
Which faint and die upon the air. 

Sleep thou, mine own, while on the wings 
Of Love is borne the song of strings 
^olian. Laying at thy shrine 
My heart of hearts, forever thine. 

I 12 



A Collection of College Verse 

Then sleep, mine own, till sunny day 
Kisses thine eyelids, with a ray 
From rosy-fingered goddess. Morn, 
Whose beauty can but thine adorn. 

THEODORE HINMAN SIMMONS. 



THE BALLADE OF A KISS 

Hair like a mist in the sun. 

Eyes like the blue of the sky. 
Mouth like a rosebud half blown. 

Curved for a laugh or a sigh — 
Pouting, yet peeping to spy. 

If the fate-bearing daisy told true ; 
As I stood there, demurely, I — why, 

I kissed her, of course, — wouldn't you? 

That new waltz of Strauss' had begun, — 

That waltz throbbing hard like a cry 
Wrought of pleasure and pain all in one, — 

And the dancers went lazily by. 
As she gave me the daisy to try 

Whether Cupid said anything new ; 
Then she sighed — oh, so softly, — and — why, 

I kissed her, of course, — wouldn't you ? 
113 



With Pipe and Book 

Just a kiss — what's the harm that was done ? 

Not a soul in the garden was nigh. 
And, you know, what is found out by none 

Never happened — none need to deny. 
Just a kiss snatched from lips that were shy 

As the blush that across her cheek flew. 
And the red of the rose would out-vie — 

I kissed her, of course, — wouldn't you ? 

L' envoi! 
Pretty maid, now my ballade is done. 

You ask, what's the moral to you ? 
I haste to reply there is none — 

But — I kissed her — of course — wouldn't 
you ? 

A. B. HOUGHTON. 



MY QUEST 

Over the meadow and over the hill. 

Over the heath and heather, 
I seek for the spot where the dawn-wind sleeps, 

And slips from its night-bound tether. 
114 



A Collection of College Verse 

Is it here ? Is it there ? 

Pray tell me where 
The morning zephyrs tarry. 

That I may find 

Where they crouch and hide. 
And sip of the dew they carry. 

Over the billow and over the wave. 

Over the vales and valleys, 
I seek for the spot where the night-wind dreams. 
And rest from its twilight rallies. 

Is it here ? Is it there ? 

Pray tell me where 
The breath of night lies sleeping. 

That I may rest 

In its downy nest. 
With its breath my eyelids steeping. 



AT THE SEA 

Sing to me. Anemone! 
At the breaking of the sea. 
At the sighing of the deep. 
Sing me into endless sleep! 
115 



With Pipe and Book 

I am weary, very weary. 
Lonely is the land and dreary. 
When the waves break o'er the lea. 
Sing to me. Anemone! 

— Dreamily, so dreamily ! 

When the breakers rise and fall. 
When the wild sea-voices call. 
When the sky is dark and chill. 
When the sea-bird's cry is still. 
When the cold north wind is blowing 
Over ocean's icy flowing. 
Spirit voices call to me ; 
Sing to me. Anemone! 

— Drowsily, so drowsily! 

Sing a song of wilder kind 
To the whistling of the wind ! 
Cold I lie upon the sand. 
Cold the waves lap on the strand. 
I am weary, oh! so weary. 
Lonely is the land and dreary. 
Lay me, dying, by the sea! 
Sing to me. Anemone! 

— Sleepily, so sleepily! 

HENRY HUNTER WELSH. 

ii6 



A Collection of College Verse 
CHRISTMAS MORNING 

With flare of trumpet and roll of drum 

Tho' never a stick have w^e. 

And never a horn save a dimpled hand — 
A roistering, rollicking, warlike band. 

Right valorous soldiers three. 

Our line of march through the parlor dim. 

And out to the open hall, 

A step and a stamp and a fearless stride — 
And a paper-knife strapped to each valiant side. 

Then way! we are heroes all. 

Shall it be a charge on the rocking-chair ? 

Or a siege of the balustrade .? 

Or a slow, strategical night-attack 

On the castle walls of the old hat-rack. 

Or merely a dress-parade ? 

'Tis one I vow to the soldiers three, 

Polly and Prue and I, 

With never a horn save a dimpled hand. 
We'll march all over this Downstairs Land 

117 



With Pipe and Book 

Till the stars peep out in the sky. 
And the moon says bed-time's nigh. 

CHARLES EDWARD THOMAS. 



TWILIGHT SONG 

Blow, idle shore-wind, low 

Over the lea ; 
Flow, languid river, slow 

Down to the sea. 

Fly, careless swallow, high 

Over the rill ; 
Die, evening echoes, die 

Under the hill. 

Stray, drowsy catde, stray 

Into the fold ; 
Stay, linger, twilight gray. 

Over the wold. 

Sleep o'er our senses creep. 

Peaceful and light ; 
Sweep all our troubles deep 

Into the night. 

ROBERT L. MUNGER. 
Il8 



A Collection of College Verse 

LATE 

Why doesn't she come? The lamps burning 
faintly 
But deepen the dark in the old-fashioned room 
Save where over the fire-place a face pure and 
saintly 
Smiles down its own light through the waver- 
ing gloom. 

Her grandmother once who in silvery satin 
Swept down those same stairs demure and 
sedate. 
Shook out her long train in the gleam of the fire- 
light. 
And smiled, too, at making her own lover 
wait. 

ANNIE NYHAN SCRIBNER. 



YESTERDAY 



At dawn a white-sailed vessel touched the pier. 
Laden with gold and jewels rare for me ; 
119 



With Pipe and Book 

All day she lay in port, but in the clear. 
Calm even, with her gems she put to sea. 

And mingling with a fleet, with bitter tears 
I see her white sails glimmer far away. 

Sailing across the sea of wasted years. 

And know my gems are lost fore'er and aye. 

WILLIAM H. FIELD. 



CHEER 



When the world's awry, when the tide is out. 

And the heart is dull the while. 
There's naught can dispel the care and doubt 

Like a girl's bright, fearless smile. 

All the chilling mists of gloom and fear. 
In a hard life's storm and whirl. 

Will vanish before the saucy cheer 
Of a sweet-faced, laughing girl. 

There's new Hfe in the air of her sunny smile. 

Parting lips over lines of pearl. 
And contagious hope in the dancing eyes 

Of a blithesome, laughing girl. 



A Collection of College Verse 

Not snowflakes white, as they mantle down 
Soft and light o'er the scars of earth. 

Can as gently cover a vexed heart's frown 
As the spell of her cheery mirth. 



All the weaker thoughts of a wayward heart 
Are folded away like a sail at furl. 

Or summoned to play the nobler part 
By the smile of a true, sweet girl. 

GEORGE BROWNING McCLELLAN. 



A SKATING SONG 

The sound of the bugle over the hill — 

Ho ! lads, ho ! 
The twang of the bowstring, silvery shrill 

Across the waste of snow. 

Then busk ye, all my merry men. 

And arm ye for the fight. 
There's many a heart now whole I ken. 

Will helpless lie this night — 

I 21 



With Pipe and Book 

For who can brave a maiden's glance. 
Or ward her dear device — 

What time the moonbeams are a-dance 
Along the diamond ice ? 



The gallant rush as the squadrons wheel — 

Away ! lads, away ! 
The rollicking call and the ring of steel — 

Ah ! but the world is gay. 

So, merry men, lay down your arms 

And quit a vanquished field. 
For we are bound by stronger charms 

Than Baron Frost can wield. 
The icy chains of doughty Jack 

Must vanish at a breath. 
But these fond ties we wear, alack ! 

Shall hold us to the death. 

Dan Cupid's bow is never still — 

And like a bell 
Sounds Love's light laughter over the hill — 

A sweet farewell. 

DAVID POTTER. 
122 



A Collection of College Verse 

THREE POINTS OF VIEW 
I — His Apostrophe 

If my hopes were as bright 

As your eyes, ma belle. 
When I whispered ** Good night ! " — 
If my hopes were so bright, 
I'd forget prudence, quite. 

And the world — ah, well ! 
If my hopes were as bright 

As your eyes, ma belle ! 



II — Her Soliloquy 

If he weren't a dunce. 

And a dear, — ah me ! 
He'd discover at once. 
If he weren't a dunce. 
That I'm not, for the nonce. 

Wholly fancy free. 
If he weren't a dunce. 
And a dear, — ah me ! 
123 



With Pipe and Book 

III — Cupid^s Complaint 

What' s the good of a heart 
When the eyes are blind ? 

Or when pride takes a part, 

What's the good of a heart ? 

Tho' I've sent my last dart. 
Not a wound to bind ! 

What's the good of a heart. 
When the eyes are blind ? 



D. V. C. 



WHEN STARS COME OUT 

When stars come out o'er land and sea. 

And night winds, rushing wild and free 

From some dark billow's snowy crest 

To that bright island in the west. 

Which now enshrines the form of thee, 

I would, dear heart, that I could be 
A spirit of the air, and flee 

To thine all loving arms and rest. 
When stars come out. 
124 



A Collection of College Verse 

Such dreams the bright stars wing to me. 
Through all the dim infinity. 

From airy regions of the blest. 

And so, by thoughts of thee caressed, 
I sleep to dream again of thee. 
When stars come out. 



MY LADY IN THE GARDEN 

Out through the blossoms she's wandering 
slowly, 

Down in her pathway the apple-blooms fall. 
With scent of the lilacs, the air is made holy 

For her who is blossom and queen of them all. 

Cover your heads and hide in the grasses. 

Lilies that nod so stately and tall. 
She gathers you up in her hands as she passes, — 

They are whiter than you ; she is queen of 
you all. 

Kneel ye, pink roses ; she's found out the treas- 
ure 

I2S 



With Pipe and Book 

Of all your sweet incense down here by the 
wall ; 
Close to her cheek, if that be her pleasure, — 
It is pinker than you ; she is queen of you all. 

We, like the birds in the maple-trees o'er her. 
Follow her footsteps, we come at her call. 

Only with that which is pure we'll adore her, — 
She, the white blossom, the queen of us all. 

WILLIAM BYRON FORBUSH. 



MANOA 

" A faire citye of great wealthe." 

Ho, comrades, seize your rusting arms^ 

Recall your old bravado. 
And away to seek the richest town 

In the realms of El Dorado. 

Its roofs are covered with golden tiles. 
Upraised on columns golden ; 

Of gold are the pavements of the streets. 
Of gold the ramparts olden. 
126 



A Collection of College Verse 

There are golden idols in golden shrines. 

In golden temples dwelling ; 
And the people heap them with golden gifts. 

In number past all telling. 

A golden plough, or a golden spade 
Is the tool of the poorest farmer ; 

And with golden swords do its soldiers fight. 
Arrayed in golden armor. 

But a golden idol is weak before 

An honest Spaniard's credo ; 
And their weapons of gold will scarce abide 

Our sabres of Toledo. 

Then scour once more your rusty arms. 

Recall your old bravado ; 
We'll sack and plunder the fairest town 

Of the realms of El Dorado. 

WILLIAM HOLDEN EDDY* 



127 



With Pipe and Book 

THE LITTLE BLIND BEGGAR 

At the gate of the World where the travel flows. 

And the folk stream by full-tide, 
A little blind Beggar sits in the sun 

And shoots afar and wide. 

He fits the arrow and twangs the bow 

And low in his throat laughs he. 
For well he knows he will hit his mark 

Though never a face he see. 

And never his stock of arrows fails. 
For the pain of the wound is sweet. 

And the stricken folk bring the arrows back 
To pile at the Beggar's feet. 

And he fits the arrows and twangs the bow 

And laughs till his fingers shake. 
For well he knows he can never miss 

But somewhere a heart must ache. 

And they who are struck, they keep still tongue, 

But they carry the arrows back. 
And they who are spared, they sound abroad 

The songs of the pain they lack. 
128 



A Collection of College Verse 

But still or singing, and grave or gay. 
Through the gate of the World they go. 

And the little blind Beggar sits in the sun 
And laughs as he lays them low. 

J. D. DASKAM. 



LINES 
Praying my Lady be a Little Girl again 

*' Some day she will learii to know 

Child-faith i as of old 
Learn to look within, and so 

Find the gold. ' ' 

Lady, one who loves thee sends this prayer. 
Knowing thee wise and good as thou art fair. 

Soul of the lily, heart of rose, you awoke 

To find the world that seemed so fair, a cheat. 
Dream again, lady, the world's hearts are of oak. 
But they will guard thee from the storm and 
sleet ; 
Hands that are rough and restless from the strife 
Will win and keep a peace about thy life. 
129 



With Pipe and Book 

Dream again, lady, turn thy gentle eyes 

Aside from the world's bitterness and grime; 
God's glory reigns above the hills that rise 

Eastward and westward toward the walls of 
time. 
Beauty blesses the valleys ; a little the world is 

true ; 
And a kindlier age is ours than that which our 
fathers knew. 

Lady, look kindly out on the strife, and be 

To those who struggle a hopeful guiding star. 
Ruling right queenly, keeping thy heart's heart 
free 
Till that heart' s master, resistless, comes from 
afar. 
Listen my prayer, lady ; be unafraid as of old. 
Frankly challenging life with a smile. And 
see! 
Because thou art true, lady, thy servants have 
hearts of gold. 



30 



A Collection of College Verse 

SLUMBER SONG 

Slumber sweet thine eyelids greet. 

Marguerite ; 
May the angels watching o'er thee 
Sing their softest dream songs for thee. 

Marguerite, Marguerite. 
May the night winds soothing speak. 
As they blow, soft and low. 

To and fro 
O'er thy blushing, dimpled cheek. 

Marguerite, 
Whispering Love's old melody. 
Sweet, to thee. 
Till the morning sunlight beaming 
Gendy woos thee from thy dreaming 
Back to me. 
Marguerite, my Marguerite. 

ST. RIC. 



A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM 

Moonbeam meshes tangled lie 

On the grass tops, in the hollow. 
Round and round the wood nymphs fly. 



With Pipe and Book 

Chasing hard the satyrs follow. 
*< Catch us, catch us, if you can," 

Laugh the wood nymphs in the hollow. 
Shout the satyrs, *« Follow ! follow ! " 

** Catch us ! " — " Follow " — ** if you 
can." 

All about the bright moon weaves 

Mingled shadows, softly falling. 
In and out among the leaves 

Dance the wood nymphs gayly calling. 
** Catch us, catch us, if you can," 

Laugh the wood nymphs in the hollow. 
Shout the satyrs, ** Follow ! follow ! " 

** Catch us ! " — '* Follow " — «* if you 
can." 

Lower, lower drops the moon. 

Oh, the witching summer weather ! 
Hark, the midnight hour! too soon 

Moonlight, fairies fly together. 
"Catch us, catch us, if you can," 

Laugh the wood nymphs in the hollow. 
Shout the satyrs, ** Follow ! follow ! " 

** Catch us ! " — ** Follow " — "if you 
can." 

FLORA E. BILLAM. 
132 



A Collection of College Verse 

''WHEN THE LAST LIGHT DIM 
AND STILL" 

" When the last light dim and still 
Trembles on the western hill, 

Margaret, 

Do you yet 
Stand beside the mossy rill 
Dreaming else or singing low. 
As I saw you years ago ? 

When the shepherds homeward go. 
Faring silendy and slow, 

Margaret, 

Margaret, 
Do you ever, ever know. 
Any of the evening yearning 
Or regret's relendess burning? 

Harboring, harboring 
Melancholies in the spring. 

We forget, 

Margaret, 
Peace dead memories might bring. 
Dear words whispered soft and low 
In the very long ago." 

ROBERT L. MUNGER. 

^33 



With Pipe and Book 

A SONG 

This I learned from the birds. 

Dear heart. 
And they told me in woodland words 

Apart — 
And they told me true. 
That all their singing the summer through 
Was of you, of you. 

This I learned from the flowers. 

Dear heart. 
In the dewy morning hours 

Apart — 
And they sware it, too. 
That all their sweetness the summer through 
Was for you, for you. 

This I learned from the leaves. 

Dear heart. 
On stilly, starry eves 

Apart — 
Though their words were few. 
That all their sighing the summer through 
Was for you, for you. 

FRANCIS CHARLES MCDONALD. 



A Collection of College Verse 

"CRUX FIDELIS" 

High in the snowy pinnacle 

Tinkle the silvery convent bells ; 

The brown-robed monks come half awake 
In shivering silence from their cells. 

The night-wind blows the powdered snow 
Across the naked, sandalled feet 

That shuffle along the cloister-stones. 

Hollowed with time and glazed with sleet. 

They creep from the snowy cold without 

Into the stony cold within ; 
The organ fills the minster walls 

With muffled tones, and Lauds begin. 

One taper lights the lecturn-book. 

Red gleam the clanking censer's coals. 

Into the darkness of the nave 

The great hymn of the Passion rolls. 

*< Crux fidelis, inter omnes 
Arbor una nobilis ; 
Silva talem nulla profert 
Fronde, flore, germine, 
135 



With Pipe and Book 

Dulce ferrum, dulce lignum, 
Dulce pondus sustinent." 

Up on the shrouded altar-rood 

The Crucified hangs pale and dim ; 

The organ peals for Holy Week, 

The monks sing on the ancient hymn : 

*' Sola digna tu fuisti 
Ferre mundi victimam ; 
Atque portum praeparare. 
Area mundo naufrago, 
Quam sacer cruor perunxit, 
Fusus Agni corpore/* 

The church is dark, the censer cold. 

Its fire to ashes burns away : 
The monks steal sofdy through the night 

To dream of heaven's eternal day. 

JOHN S. p. TATLOCK 



CLOUDLAND 

Over the hills, at the close of day. 
Gazing with lisdess-seeming eyes, 
136 



A Collection of College Verse 

Margery watches them sail away, — 
The sunlit clouds of the western skies. 

Margery sighs with a vague regret. 

As slowly they fade from the gold to gray. 

Till night has come, and the sun has set. 

And the clouds have drifted beyond the day. 

What are you dreaming, my little maid ? 

For yours are beautiful thoughts, I know ; 
What were the words that the wild wind said. 

And where, in the dark, did the cloud-ships 
go? 

Come through the window and touch her hair. 
Wind of the vast and starry deep ! 

And tell her not of this old world's care. 
But kiss her softly, and let her sleep. 



THE OLD LOVE SONG 

Play it slowly, sing it lowly. 

Old familiar tune ! 
Once it ran in dance and dimple, 

137 



With Pipe and Book 

Like a brook in June ; 
Now it sobs along the measures 

With a sound of tears ; 
Dear old voices echo through it. 

Vanished with the years. 

Ripple, ripple goes the love song 

Till in slowing time. 
Early sweetness grows completeness. 

Floods its every rhyme ; 
Who together learn the music 

Life and death unfold. 
Know that love is but beginning 

Until love is old. 

Play it slowly, it is holy 

As an evening hymn ; 
Morning gladness hushed to sadness 

Fills it to the brim. 
Memories home within the music. 

Stealing through the bars ; 
Thoughts within its quiet spaces 

Rise and set like stars. 



13: 



A Collection of College Verse 

DPS SMILE 

Have you ever seen Di' s smile ? 

Oh, *tis pretty! 
It is very worth your while. 
If you ever hap to meet her. 
Not to miss the chance to greet her 
In the park or on the street. 
To enjoy the subject sweet. 

Of my ditty. 

If it does not stir your heart, 

More*s the pity. 
If you've ever seen the ripple start. 
Coy with cherried lips opposing, — 
Pearly glimpses, too, disclosing. 
On the rampage, dimples, blushes, — 
What are you that scornful, hushes 

My wee ditty ? 

WILLIAM CLYDE FITCH. 



A STOLEN GLANCE 

I SING of the grace of a fleeting face 
And the charm of a hurried glance, 
139 



With Pipe and Book 

Of a form so neat and a smile so sweet 

In the maze of the whirling dance. 
I see her alone ; then the vision has flown. 

And the music grows dreamy and low. 
The gay flashing light is not half so bright. 

And my heart-beats are heavy and slow. 
But my heart I conceal till once more do I feel 

The magical charm of her glance ; 
For she blushes so sweet as our eyes again meet 

In the maze of the whirling dance. 

JOHN CLINTON ANTHONY. 



WHEN MORNING BREAKS 

When morning breaks what fortune waits for me ? 
What ships shall rise from out the misty sea ? 
What friends shall clasp my hand in fond fare- 
well ? 
What dream-wrought casdes, as night's clouds 
dispel. 
Shall raise their sun-kissed towers upon the lea ? 

To-night the moon-queen, shining wide and free. 

To-night the shining breeze, the song and thee ; 

140 



A Collection of College Verse 

But time is brief. What cometh, who can 
tell. 

When morning breaks ? 

To-night, to-night, then happy let us be 
To-night, to-night, life's shadowy cares shall 
flee! 
And though the dawn come in with chime 

or knell. 
When night recalls its last bright sentinel 
I shall, at least, have memories left to me. 
When morning breaks. 

EDWARD A. RALEIGH. 



THE TARDY-BUG MEN 

Where were they going, those Tardy-Bug Men, 

As they trooped down the hill to the valley ? 

And what did they do, and what happened when 

They trooped down the hill to the valley ? 
They carried the shadows to darken the land. 
And they called to the toilers on every hand 
To cease for the passing of Tardy-Bug band. 
As they trooped on their way through the 
valley. 

141 



With Pipe and Book 

What were they singing, those Tardy-Bug Men, 
As they crossed by the bridge and the ferry ? 

Singing so sweetly along through the glen 

As they crossed by the bridge and the ferry ? 

They sang of the land of the Lulla-bye tree 

Where dreams are grown ripely for you and for 
me. 

And they brought of the fruit for the peasantry 
Who dwelt by the bridge and the ferry. 

Where did they go, those Tardy-Bug Men, 
When they marched through the town and 
the country ? 
And when will they come through the valley 
again 
With dreams for the town and the country ? 
After the sun they must steadily creep. 
Bearing their message of slumber, to keep 
Girdling the earth with a rainbow of sleep 
For the men of the town and the country. 

Why did they come when the sun had sunk low 
And go trooping along through the valley ? 

Why did they come from the East and then go 
Westward along through the valley ? 
142 



A Collection of College Verse 

Their path is as straight as the path to the sun. 
And their way is as long, for it never is done ! 
And the day that they follow is never begun — 
For they carry the night through the valley. 

ALDEN J. BLETHEN, JR. 



WHEN CHIME THE BELLS 

When chime bells at even-tide. 
And, spreading o'er the country-side. 
The quiet shadows sofdy fall. 
Contentment comes to one and all. 
And happiness spreads far and wide. 

And lovers, sitting side by side. 
In strong affection true and tried. 
Their sweetest memories recall 
When chime the bells. 

Their thoughts through realms enchanted glide. 
And seem on wings of love to ride 
Through Fairyland's celestial hall. 
Where from their souls earth's troubles fall. 
When chime the bells. 

LOUIS V. WINTER. 

H3 



With Pipe and Book 

BANQUET SONG 

Comrades, fill the banquet cup 

Brimming up ! 
Fill it full of love and laughter. 
Claret lips and kisses after ; 

Crown it with a maiden's smiles 
And the foam of magic wiles. 
Drink it, drain it, clink your glasses. 
For the love of loving lasses 
Ere it passes ! 

Fill again the banquet cup 

Brimming up ! 
Overflow it with the roses 
Which her timid blush discloses. 
With her sparkling eyelight sift it 
Till it flavored is. Then lift it. 
Drink it, drain it, clink your glasses. 
For the love of loving lasses 
Ere it passes ! 

Comrades, fill a parting cup 

Brimming up ! 
Flood it in your praise's zest 
For the uninvited guest. 
144 



A Collection of College Verse 

With the charms and graces fill it. 
Touch the lips and heartward spill it. 

Drink it, drink it, chnk your glasses. 

For the love of loving lasses 
Ere it passes ! 

EDWIN OSGOOD GROVER. 



FOOL'S BALLAD 

King Solomon were dunce though he 

A tenfold wisdom carried. 
But Solomon a sage was he 

A thousand times well married ; 
For lads will woo and maids will wive. 

And laugh at melancholy. 
And two-and-two is counted _/?£/^, 

Good thanks to Mistress Folly. 

LadSf Jill your glasses, aye. 
Laugh as life passes by. 
Mirrored in lassie'' s eye, 
Here^s to a fool. 

There be of them though e'er so wise 
Whose clumsy feet go dancing, 
145 



With Pipe and Book 

And follow after laughing eyes 
O'er dainty shoulder glancing ; 

But ah, such wisdom's in the braids 
Of pretty Peg and Polly, 

I do but wanton with the maids. 
And woo sweet Mistress Folly. 

Ladsy Jill your glasses , aye. 
Laugh as life passes by. 
Mirrored in lassie's eye, 
Here^s to a fool, 

CHAUNCEY WETMORE WELLS. 



DORIS'S SHOESTRINGS 

On Doris's feet 

Are the smallest of twos ; 
But surely some elf 

Has enchanted her shoes, 
For wherever we go. 

If we walk, row or ride. 
In church or at tennis. 

Her shoe comes untied. 
1+6 



A Collection of College Verse 

At times it is trying. 

But what can I do 
When poor Doris murmurs, 

** Oh, bother that shoe ! " 
So down I must flop 

In the dust and the dirt 
To tie up the shoe 

Of that dear little flirt. 

These precious girl-tyrants ! 

We cannot rebel. 
For even their ribbons 

Are filled with their spell. 
Since old-fashioned aprons 

No longer they use. 
They tie a poor man 

To the strings of their shoes. 

JULIET WILBUR TOMPKINS. 



^M 



With Pipe and Book 

HER LIGHT GUITAR 

Her light guitar she sweetly plays 
With the sweetest, witching little ways 
Of smiling at me, as I lie 
Admiring her, and vainly try 
To still the heart her beauty sways. 
Her graceful form the fire's red rays 
Encircle with a maddening maze 
Of mellow light, — and richly dye 
Her light guitar. 



SOUTHERN 

Out of my window, half dreaming, I leaned. 
My hands full of passion-flowers carelessly 
gleaned ; 
The night like some dusk damask-rose just 

a-bloom. 
All tremulous with its wealth of perfume, — 
Yet sweeter than all the sweet night touched 

with dew 
Was the thought in my soul of you, sweetheart, 
of you. 

148 



A Collection of College Verse 

A silver-strewn main was the sweep of the sky. 
Where the stars — timid sailors — thick-cluster- 
ing lie ; 
And far in the east a golden-lined boat 
Swinging wide at her anchor — the young 
moon afloat ; 
Yet fairer than all the night's beauty in view 
Was the dream that it brought of you, sweet- 
heart, of you. 

From the south through the limes came a 

passionate breath 
That the faint wind scarce bore ere it swooned 
to its death ; 
Yet I grasped the sweet meaning with which 

it was fraught. 
And night, sky and stars — yea, the whole 
world — were naught 
When once the full import my longing soul 

knew. 
For a whisper it brought of you, sweetheart, 
of you. 

E. M. LEVIER. 



149 



With Pipe and Book 

TO THE VALLEY OF DREAMS 

To memory-land we often go. 

And yet, I wonder if we know 

Just why we slip from life's rough way 
To wander back for hours to play 

'Mid other scenes that charm us so ; 

Or why, when sinking sun is low 
And changing blue is all aglow. 
We journey through the twilight day 
To memory-land ? 

But long as sunset breezes blow. 
And field-flowers sweet wave to and fro. 
So long will you and I obey 
The tender notes, th' entrancing lay 
Of bard of dreams, and hie, I trow. 
To memory-land. 



SO 



AUTHOR INDEX 



Adams, Elizabeth Kemper, 93 
Anthony, John Clinton, 24, 
139 

Billam, Flora E., 131 
Blethen, AldenJ., 141 
Brastow, Lewis Ladd, 87 
Buchanan, T. W., 62 

Call, Arthur D., 70 
Camp, Frederick Stanley, 48 
Chapeau, Carl, 109 
Conger, Harry Rutgers, 64 
Cooke, R. P., 96 
Copeland, G. A., 40 
Craven, Gertrude, 94 

Daskam, J. D., 128 
Dillman, Will, 41 

Eddy, William Holden, 126 

Field, William H., 20, 119 
Fitch, William Clyde, 139 
Forbush, William Byron, 129 



Gillespie, Louis Packard, 76 



Gillette, George W., 33 
Grover, Edwin Osgood, 144 

Hayes, Robert Priestley, 104 
Hefferan, Mary, 7 1 
Hinsdale, F. G., 75 
Houghton, A. B., 103 
Flutchinson, Norman, 83 

Johnson, Emily S., 34, 86 
Jones, Gertrude, 39 
Jones, S. A., 72 

Ketchum, Arthur, 13, 36 
Knowles, Frederic Lawrence, 
23>3i,99 

Leonard, Ellsworth, 1 1 1 
Levier, E. M., 149 
Linn, James Weber, 2, 66 
Livingston, S. T., 82 
Lord, Augustus M., 51, 67 

McClellan, George Brown- 
ing, 120 

McDonald, Francis Charles, 
134 



15 



Author Index 



McKinney, Fanny L., 35 
McLean, Mary Hollands, 60 
Magee, Louis Jones, 47 
Merrill, Charles E., Jr., 13 
Milne, Ruth Parsons, 68 
Morris, Emily Eugenia, 78 
Munger, Robert L., 28, 56, 
95, 118, 131 

Pierce, Clay Arthur, 80 
Pike, Charles Sumner, 14,28 
Pitman, N. H., 52 
Porter, Harry C, 85 
Potter, David, 19, 121 
Pratt, James Binett, 61 

(^uinn, Arthur Hobson, 10 1 

Raleigh, Edward A., 140 
Reed, Amy Louise, 25 
Reimer, Marie, 21 

Sanborn, Thomas P. , 8 8 , i o 3 
Sawyer, J. P., 91 
ScoUard, Clinton, 78, 105, 
108 



Scribner, Annie Nyhan, 119 
Simmons, Theodore Hin- 

man, 112 
Stamon, Frank L., 45 
Stone, Henry Morgan, i 5 

Tatlock, John S. P., 135 
Thomas, Albert Ellsworth, 

27 
Thomas, Charles Edward, 

117 
Thorndike, Ashley Horace, 

46 
Tompkins, Juliet Wilbur, 

18, 53, 89, 147 
Townsend, H. H., 30 

Webster, Henry K., 109 
Wells, Chauncey Wetmore, 

Welsh, Henry Hunter, loi, 

"5 

White, Eugene Richard, 73 
Williams, James Dawes, 52 
Winter, Louis V., 143 



52 



